


Law of Equivalent Exchange

by Willow_444



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Blood and Gore, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilds, I chose not to use warnings for a reason, MAMA Powers, Mages, Magic, Mama - Freeform, Multi, Murder, OT12 - Freeform, Polyamory, SM Entertainment - Freeform, Slave Contract
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15139784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_444/pseuds/Willow_444
Summary: Magic existed, and that was great and all, but the ones who wield it are human and all humans are twisted in their own dark, special little way. Twelve mages find themselves back in Seoul despite their promises and fears, fighting a magic war they’d been trying so hard to avoid.Note: This in NO WAY accurately represents SM entertainment, savvy? (They're the bad guys here please don't take the super-evilness seriously thank you)





	1. Welcome home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I'm back with another ot12 fic because I can't bring myself to NOT write about all of them uwu.  
> UPDATES: Roughly weekly. I promise I won't leave new chapters for too long!  
> Other warnings: Magic. Just... lots of magic. And fighting. Action sceeeeenes.  
> ALSO I always finish the fics I post :)

Chanyeol kept his gaze flickering between the window and the rear-view mirror. He hadn’t caught a glimmer of magic from his taxi driver, but it was a weak assurance. Power could be hidden. Chanyeol had taken the backseat but, to his irritation, the driver was one of those young, chatty types.

“You’re traveling very light, did they lose your luggage on the flight?”

“No, I don’t like to take things with me.” Chanyeol replied stiffly.

“Your Korean is very good.”

“I used to live here.” But he had to run. Away from his previous Guild, SM, towards freedom. SM didn’t like mages leaving. Many had tried, a lucky few succeeded.

“Oh, when did you leave?”

“A long time ago.” Four years, to be exact, and he’d sworn to never return, lest SM capture him again. He relaxed his surveillance for a while to reach for his phone. Kyungsoo was expecting a call. It was picked up on the third ring.

“Chanyeol?”

“It’s me. I’m still alive.”

A relieved sigh. “Thank god. You heading to the motel?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly in top condition though.” Chanyeol shifted and bit down a wince. His jacket hid most of it but his shirt was stiff with blood, bruises splotched down his arms and the cut down his neck felt tight and swollen. The magic in his veins would heal him up by morning, sewing his body back together again. Too bad they couldn’t sew up his heart. “Where’s Kris?”

“Chanyeol…”

He closed his eyes in horror. Caught. Must have been. “Is he ok?”

“He’s alive – that’s all I know. Look, I’ll tell you when I see you. Keep your eyes open, they’re still on you.”

“I know.” Chanyeol hung up.

 

Motels were no-man’s land, no Guild of Mages could cast their magic there. It was an unspoken rule, one of the few SM had actually followed during Chanyeol’s time, and he hoped that they still did. Kyungsoo was as straight and to-the-point as Chanyeol remembered him to be. He’d barely shoved the phone back into his pocket before the damn driver was talking again. 

How old are you? Where did you come from? Where is your hometown? The weather has been cold lately, is it warmer back in China?

Wait.  
  
Chanyeol hadn’t mentioned Beijing or China or any other country at all.

 

He stayed relaxed in his seat and settled his nerves. He was too exhausted for another magical fight. SM was efficient, as they always were, and mages had been waiting for him at the airport. Outside, it was fully dark but Seoul was a city that never truly fell asleep, even in this more residential area. Fire magic was good and all, but it was dangerous around civilians and not a particularly stealthy style of fighting. If there was going to be a fight, it would be with his hands and that penknife he bought from the store not an hour before. 

Chanyeol glanced at the rearview mirror again, this time searching for something in particular. When a mage joined a Guild, they were given a contract, a tattoo under their left ear. He caught a glimpse of ink on the driver’s skin. A simple hexagon. An SM mage. Chanyeol used to have one. All that was left of his was a scar.

He reached into his backpack, pretending to rifle around for something. SM was known for bringing magic to a fist fight and he needed all the advantage he could get. 

It looked like he wasn’t getting to that motel. Kyungsoo would still be able to find him… hopefully alive.

 

“Hey, ah –” Chanyeol glanced around for some sort of name, reading off the driver’s identification. It probably wasn’t real. “Mr… Park,” oh what a coincidence, “I think I’ve left something back at the airport. Could you take me back?”

“Are you sure you can’t ask them to deliver it to you, Chanyeol? We are almost at your destination.”

Chanyeol was a hundred percent sure he hadn’t introduced himself. “No, it’s quite important.”

“The fare would be more expensive.”

“That’s ok.” He drew out his petty knife and hid it under his thigh, zipping up his bag again. He’d wait for the taxi to turn and – 

It swerved violently to the side, jerking him against the seatbelt and rattling his bones at the impact. Something crunched. His head smacked off the roof. Oh. He squinted as his vision cleared. He was upside down. Chanyeol scrambled for his seatbelt. Jammed. The driver’s seat was empty. Feet appeared outside his window.

 

The knife sliced him free and promptly snapped. Well shit. Chanyeol crumpled against the roof of the car, squeezing his legs around. Pain shot up his ankle, straight through his knee and searing through his nerves. He was going to have to run for it. The car door on his side rattled. 

He clicked his fingers and fire leapt into his palm. The door exploded outwards in a burst of flame and Chanyeol was crawling out after it, the heat dancing harmlessly over his skin. He heard metal crumple against someone. Hopefully it was the SM mage. He got to his feet. His ankle burned and yelled at him to stop. He told it to shut up. 

Limping heavily, Chanyeol shoved past a group of gaping bystanders, and forced his legs to move faster. Kyungsoo had to have felt that explosion of energy. Just to check, Chanyeol rubbed his fingers together again. Not even a spark. That was it for his magic today. 

A stitch flared in his side and he cursed it, taking a right and squeezing between two buildings. At least there weren’t any other people around here. Normal ones didn’t know about magic. By tomorrow morning the taxi company would be under fire for faulty vehicles. No pun intended.

 

Power tingled up his spine and Chanyeol threw himself sideways, losing the skin of his palms against bricks. Chanyeol turned to face his opponent and called out.

“Park Chanyeol.”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he got one. “Byun Baekhyun.”

Names were powerful. If they ended up dying somehow, they’d be able to find each other in the Spirit Realm to make peace. Not that Chanyeol blamed this guy. SM required its mages to follow orders like the Bible – it was one of the reasons why he left in the first place. 

Chanyeol blinked and the figure disappeared with a glimmer of light. There was only the slightest haze hanging about, a subtle use of magic that made it impossible to pinpoint him until – Chanyeol’s reaction was a beat too late and something slammed into the meat above his hip, making him stumble. He caught the glimpse of a hand before it faded back into invisibility, cloaked by light. How noble, Baekhyun had left the knife stuck in his side. 

Light mages were a pain to fight. 

He flailed for the handle and pulled it out with a wounded roar, dropping it without a second thought. He was more likely to stab himself by accident than his opponent. Chanyeol turned warily, waiting for that same brush of magic to come by.

 

Too much strain on his feet – Chanyeol’s ankle buckled, going weak, and he crumpled sideways, fetching up against the side of a building just in time to see another knife streak past his nose. A stroke of luck. Hoping his good fortune would hold was a stupid idea. Light magic he couldn’t see, but he could detect heat just fine. 

He lunged for that vague outline of warmth and was rewarded with a handful of invisible cloth. Something slammed into his jaw and pain burst under his skin. Blind to his opponent, Chanyeol somehow managed to catch hold of what felt like wrists, a slash opening over his forearm as they struggled until, finally, Byun Baekhyun melted back into sight. 

There wasn’t time to breathe. Baekhyun crowded in and stomped on his injured foot, right where it connected with the rest of his leg. Chanyeol’s ankle gave out for real this time and he almost bit off his tongue as they fell. 

As weak as he was, Chanyeol was still a whole lot heavier. He landed on top and – how many knives did this guy have? Chanyeol rolled off him fast. Not fast enough. Fingers dug into his neck and the back of his head slammed into the road.

 

Weight settled over his body, Baekhyun’s sharp knees digging into his shoulders and pinning him down. No matter how much he arched and heaved, Chanyeol couldn’t break free. A sharp edge pressed under his chin. Chanyeol panicked. 

Magic was supposed to be a natural flow of energy – there was nothing natural about Chanyeol’s fire this time. It tugged the heat from his veins, his heart, his spirit, and it exploded from his skin looking redder than blood. The weight on his chest disappeared.

 

Come on. Move. _Move_. He forced himself onto his elbows. Damn, Baekhyun didn’t look too burned. Mustn’t have been a lot of heat in that blast. Chanyeol staggered onto his feet and coughed. He wiped at his lips and his fingers came away red, shaky. Movement in the corner of his eye – the SM mage was getting up _fuck_. 

A glint through the air. Chanyeol screwed his eyes shut and waited for the blade to skewer him. 

It didn’t. 

The ground beneath him trembled. A different sort of magic, heavier than light or fire, surged. Tarmac cracked and a wall of earth shot up between them, shielding Chanyeol from attack. Strong arms wriggled under his shoulders and Chanyeol glanced down to see Kyungsoo’s short, bristly hair. He was dimly aware of his voice.

“- move. Chanyeol, can you move?”

Chanyeol grunted and tried. Nothing was listening to him.

“Just around the corner – god you’re heavy.” Kyungsoo sounded muffled, as if he was speaking from a distance. Chanyeol shouldn’t have allowed that last burst of magic. His vision blurred darker and darker. Then everything went black.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

SM was one of the biggest Guilds in South Korea, popular with a lot of young mages as a place to train. That’s how Guilds were supposed to work, a group of mages supporting each other, helping the next generation control their magic and live relatively normal lives. Jongin was pretty sure that was how SM operated until the new Guild master came into power. 

Jongin’s contract tingled under his ear as he materialized into SM building. It was quite literal, one moment he was in his shared apartment and the next he was here, squinting against artificial lights. A gaggle of teens, foreign mages in training by the looks of it, stared at his effortless display of magic. 

Teleporting was crazy dangerous, easy to mess up if you weren’t concentrated, difficult to fully control, but Jongin got the hang of it. There’d been another mage with a similar sort of magic. Long story short: he fucked up. So Jongin ended up with the title of SM’s only teleporter. He wished he never did.

 

Most of SM’s mages went the length of their contract without ever finding out the truth. But, as in Jongin’s unfortunate case, if your magic was particularly useful you’d be ordered to carry out specific tasks that were less pleasant. Most mages complied. Others refused and died. Then there were the few that looked for escape. The number of successful escapees was pitifully small. 

Jongin was a rather special case. 

Jongdae was managing the front desk tonight.

“Any jobs yet?”

“Nope.” Jongdae lifted his head, propping it on his arm with a sigh. “Orders roll in at midnight.”

Jongin licked his lips nervously and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be out for a few minutes.”

“You’re always out.”

“If anyone asks, I’m still in the building ok? You just don’t know where.”

That got Jongdae’s attention. He perked up, eyes sharp. The only two people Jongin could trust were Jongdae and Baekhyun. He hadn’t told Baekhyun for… reasons. Jongdae made a shooing motion.

“Go. Come back quick or I’ll zap you I swear to god.” A spark of lightning jumped between his fingers. Jongin gave him a reassuring smile.

“Thanks.” Jongin turned around, his new destination set firmly in his mind’s eye, and surrounded himself with magic. 

 

The tiles morphed into tarmac, a chilly gust of wind snatching at his clothes, and he was standing in the middle of an empty street. Jongin slid to the side and waited. Kyungsoo said he’d be coming any time soon – there he was. 

Jongin sprinted to meet him, calling out, watching Kyungsoo’s head snap up at the sound. He was moving slow, practically dragging a man behind him. Jongin didn’t ask questions. He never had to ask questions with Kyungsoo because Kyungsoo told him everything. In a blink, Jongin was beside him, grasping his shoulder. With an inhale he pulled at his magic, forcing it around all three of them, and with an exhale, his surroundings warped once more. His ears popped. 

Streetlights melted into walls, tarmac fading to wood. Jongin knew Kyungsoo’s little safe house like the back of his hand.

 

“Thank you.” Kyungsoo grunted, trying to manhandle an unconscious Chanyeol onto one of his couches. Jongin silently helped him, so aware of the limited time they had. So close, Jongin could see the scar under his ear, where SM’s contract had once been. Jongin’s own, active contract buzzed sadly.

“Hey.” Cool fingers under his chin, Kyungsoo’s wide eyes holding his. “I meant it. Thank you.”

Jongin smiled, running his hand up the back of Kyungsoo’s neck and tilting their heads for a kiss. It was brief. Everything was brief. As an SM mage, this man was supposed to be his enemy.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Then Jongin released him, stepped back, and let his magic whisk him away.

 

He was barely back in real space when a familiar jolt of pain zipped down his thigh. He yelped.

“Jongdae! I swear I was quick.”

“You were, I just wanted to give you a little shock.” Jongdae grinned, but it lacked the usual laughter he carried. There wasn’t anyone else around them. “The jobs rolled in.”

Jongin checked the time. 12:01am. “Yeah, and?”

“Here’s yours. Read it. Now.”

Confused, Jongin tore open the envelope and took out the hand written note. 

Here was how stuff worked in SM: Obey or die. In the same way Jongin manipulated spaces and Kyungsoo earth, the current Guild master used blood. A scene replayed in Jongin’s head. There was a mage who tried to escape once, didn’t destroy the contract first. A snap of the master’s fingers and she’d exploded. Jongin felt the same chill of horror he had that day when he read the note.

 _Kill Do Kyungsoo_.

“You’ve been too obvious.” Jongdae hissed at him, “you can’t keep doing this. The master suspects. All he needs to do is catch you out _once_ and you’re dead. Kyungsoo has been considered a traitor ever since he ran and you’re helping him.”

“Dae –”

“I’m not saying what’s right and what’s wrong, but you need to make a decision. Kill him, refuse the order and die, or escape. You’ve got a week.”

“I can’t do any of those.”

“Why not? Because Kyungsoo needs a little spy?” Static crackled in Jongdae’s hair. “I don’t know him so I can’t tell if he’s worth it, but are you willing to get smeared all over the walls?”

“I know what I’m doing, just three more days, Dae. I promise I won’t die, ok?”

Jongdae leaned back in his seat and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

 

Jongin left SM building with a cloud of misery hanging around his head, appearing back in his shared apartment with his head hanging and heavy with dread. He flopped onto a sofa and stared at the note. That was how Baekhyun found him an hour later, still and unmoving.

“I’m home.” Too lost in his thoughts, Jongin didn’t register how pissed Baekhyun sounded until he slammed the door shut and the overhead lights flickered.

“Hey.”

“The only reason I’m still alive is because I only _half_ fucked up my job.”

“What happened?” Jongin shuffled over and Baekhyun collapsed next to him. There was blood on his sleeve and bandages binding his hands. He smelt like smoke. Baekhyun sighed.

“Got a job to run after an escaped mage – the fire one. Park Chanyeol.”

Jongin stiffened. He didn’t know Baek had been out there. “Did you get him?”

“Well, I did part one ok. Got his blood. Didn’t get around to killing him. The master seemed pretty pleased for some reason when I reported that Do Kyungsoo was helping Park.”

He’d known that, of course he did. But he didn’t know Baekhyun, of all people, was assigned the job. Jongin’s thoughts blanked. “They were working together?”

Baekhyun didn’t answer. Then a hand yanked at Jongin’s collar and sent him tumbling to the floor. Instinctively, Jongin bucked, trying to throw off Baekhyun’s weight, but he’d been caught unawares and Baekhyun had him pinned.

“Baek –”

“I could sense your magic Jongin what the hell were you doing there?”

Jongin almost stopped breathing. “What are you talking about?”

The grip moved to his neck, pressing down dangerously. “I’m not stupid. One minute I’m chasing them down the road, the next minute they’re gone. Poof. Disappeared. You may not be the only teleporter in Seoul, but I’m pretty damn sure that was you.”

“I was in the SM building.”

“Yeah, nice try. Jongdae said that too. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but dragging Jongdae into it is fucked up. You could get him killed.”

“Baek –”

“I thought you said you’d cut ties with Do Kyungsoo.”

Oh. So that’s what it was about. Baekhyun had never liked Kyungsoo, even before he’d escaped. It was simple to remember but a headache to think about. Jongin had had two choices and he had picked Kyungsoo.

Jongin didn’t think Baekhyun would rat him out; as complex as it was, they were still friends. Basically any sort of bond would have priority over the damn contract. But this…

“It’s none of your business, Baek.”

“It’s my business if you’re messing up my job.” Baekhyun released him and stood, disgusted. “You’re selfish, you know? You follow after him with tunnel vision and you don’t care who you screw over to get there.”

“Well, I don’t want to just sit here and kill people.” Jongin pushed himself up, the beginnings of anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t you feel anything? When the master sends you off on a kill order, you obey like some sort of dog. At least I’m not a murderer.”

The overhead light shattered. Jongin bit his tongue. He wanted to swallow it. “Baek –”

He was shoved over, his hand landing on shards of glass. He could barely feel the pain.

“Baek, I didn’t mean that –” He heard Baekhyun’s bedroom door close. He wasn’t sure if he heard a sob.

 

Jongin cradled his hand and sighed, fumbling for an extra light bulb. Baekhyun used to blow out the lights a few times a week when they were younger. Those were simpler times. He checked the clock and started to pick out the pieces of glass in his palm. He’d give it an hour then go apologize. No matter what, they were still friends, even though their naïve sparks of hope and wonder at the magical world had long since died out.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

It was freezing cold. Had he died? Chanyeol couldn’t rule out the probability that he’d spontaneously combusted – magic overuse could be fatal. Was this what the Spirit realm felt like? He thought it’d be warmer.

“Chanyeol.” A voice faded into his consciousness, a mere whisper. Kris? “Chanyeol come on, I need you awake – no, for the sake of all mages, don’t move.”

Chanyeol went limp again, too dizzy to go through with trying to sit up. “Kris.”

“It’s Kyungsoo.” Something cold pressed against his forehead. “Shit, you’re still burning up. What’s your normal body temperature?”

“Higher than yours.” He couldn’t quite remember. “Forty… forty-something.”

“Uh-huh.”

What was he lying in? Too hard to be a bed and it was _cold_. The pressure on his forehead disappeared and something clinked. He was still struggling to open his eyes when freezing water gushed over his face.

 

Chanyeol spluttered, eyes flying open. He was still alive. He’d been sitting in a bathtub. He focused just in time to watch Kyungsoo heave a bucket of water – the clinking was from ice – up to the side of the tub and tip it over.

“Fuck, Soo don’t –”

“Your clothes were catching fire.” The tap turned on. “And I really don’t want my _home_ to go up in flames. Don’t move, your wounds will rip again.”

Chanyeol settled back and shivered miserably, feeling the chill seep into his bones. The ice was already half melted. This time, Kyungsoo lifted a bag of it and dumped it all into the tub.

“I took your clothes off. Hope you don’t mind.”

Chanyeol groaned again. The skin down his side felt unnaturally tight and tingly, whatever damage done was healing, but that was the least of his worries. Kyungsoo’s face swam into view.

“You fire mages are always so damn emotional, exploding everywhere, absolutely no control.” Kyungsoo picked up the bucket again. “I think you’re safe for now.”

“Great.”

“Stay awake.” Fingers snapped under his nose. “C’mon – you know your fire goes wild when you’re unconscious. Eyes on me.”

Chanyeol fumbled for something, anything that would keep his attention, and went with it. “Kris.”

“I’m still not Kris.”

“I know. Where is he?” He paused for a moment. “Where am I?”

“Ok, one question at a time. As long as you stay awake, I’ll keep going.”

Chanyeol nodded once and stopped, his head swirling unpleasantly. He stared at the melting ice as he waited for Kyungsoo to continue.

“This is one of my safe houses, a friend of mine got us here.”

“What –”

“I’m not done yet. Kris – he’s alive. That’s really all I know.” Kyungsoo leant against the tub, arms crossed. “I know you want him back but I’m not letting you prance in there and get yourself killed. We’ll get him back, but you need to cool it.”

“I’m cool.”

A raised eyebrow was all he got. “Anyways, the only reason Kris is complying is probably because the master's forced him under some sort of blood spell or threat.” He pointed. “You’re fire.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m earth.”

“Soo –”

“And the Guild master uses blood but that’s rare as hell.” Not one magic was more powerful than another. It was all in how you used it. Kyungsoo reached under the bathroom sink and handed him a thermometer. “Basic magic rules. Equivalent exchange. Magic of the same type or level can cancel each other out. Yeol, there’s another blood mage in Seoul.”

The thermometer beeped. Fifty degrees. That was as close as he was going to get. Chanyeol ignored Kyungsoo’s irritated huff and twisted around to unplug the tub. The water was tinged red. “You’re saying he can undo the master's magic.”

“Yes. We just need to find him.”

Step 1: Kill a bear with your bare hands. Chanyeol wilted. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s why I called on you and Kris in the first place. There are only two people other than the master who know where he is. Do you remember the brothers?”

Two water mages. The older one liked ice. “Minseok and Joonmyun? I used to do jobs with Joonmyun.” Good times.

“According to Jongin, they’ve been the ones running after this second blood mage. Tried to kill him a few times too, apparently the master didn’t like having competition.” A towel fell over Chanyeol’s face. “They’ve failed one too many times and they’d rather take their chances and run than risk facing the master, but I can’t get them out by myself. Which was why I called you guys.”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate. Anything for Kris. “So we’re helping them run?”

“Yes. You’ve got six hours to freshen up. They’re set to leave for Mokpo by bullet train and they’ll take a plane out from there. Incheon airport’s too busy to be safe.”

 

As he let Kyungsoo towel him dry, Chanyeol breathed a sigh of relief. Kyungsoo hadn’t asked him the glaring question: Why had Kris come back first? If Chanyeol had come with him, none of this would have happened. His eyes prickled with water. He hadn’t wanted to return, it was too risky, dangerous for the both of them. Kris, of course, had wanted to help. Their argument had ended with the bitter sound of a door slamming shut and from then on, Kris had ignored all his calls. 

“Do we have a name for this blood mage?”

Kyungsoo helped him out of the tub. “He goes by ‘Lay.’ Definitely not his real name but for now it’s all we’ve got.”

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

“No, Yixing, listen to me –”

An eerie humming from the phone was all Luhan got. He sighed and his breath misted. The heater was broken and this far up north, the winter was early and harsh. Beside him, Tao shivered, from the cold or Yixing’s talk Luhan couldn’t tell. Luhan tried again.

“Yixing, you need to get out of Seoul.” The car wobbled and Luhan almost veered off the country road. They’d been travelling for two hours already and Luhan was on less than two hours of sleep.

“No.”

“Xingxing, please –”

“ _No_.” The humming continued. There was no use in arguing with him. The phone was on speaker, but Tao hadn’t said a word so far. It was probably best that he kept his silence. When Yixing told them not to join SM they should have listened to him, and Tao wasn’t the most levelheaded of people, especially in an argument. Tao had never apologized, but it wasn’t out of pettiness. Any time he’d tried to speak with Yixing had ended disastrously. Yixing wasn’t the most levelheaded of people either, especially when holding grudges.

Luhan felt the beginnings of a headache building between his eyes. He hadn’t even used magic today.

“What are you singing, Xingxing?”

“It’s what the blood sounds like.” A brief moment of nothing. “It’s been really loud recently.”

Ah. That would explain Yixing’s floaty attention. Luhan and Tao had known Yixing since they were children and that was long enough to understand the intricacies of blood magic and its mages. For Yixing, it was as if he was casting magic twenty-four hours a day for every day of the year. The endless energy from his own blood and the force of others sometimes snapped him under the stress.

“What do you mean it’s loud?”

“Hm?”

“Why is it so loud?” Luhan flicked on the right indicator. He didn’t want to risk passing through any main cities – that’s where SM could spot them. No one said China would be safer than Korea.

“Because there’s a lot of it.”

“And why can’t you leave Seoul?”

“Come back first, then I’ll tell you.”

Luhan opened his mouth to argue. The call cut off. “Fuck.”

“Lu, slow down.” Tao put a hand on his knee, speaking softly, eyeing the speed meter. Luhan eased off the accelerator. Just a little. “You know we won’t be able to get anything out of him.”

But they were going back anyways. They owed Yixing, a lot, and for the sake of whatever thin strings of loyalty left from their childhood bonds, they had to answer his call. They were going back to Seoul.

 

Another half hour on the road and Luhan was falling asleep. It was a shade lighter than pitch dark outside, the only clear source of light from the car’s headlights. Luhan blinked once. He blinked twice. The third time he closed his eyes he almost forgot how to open them until –

“Lu –”

He snapped awake in time to see the boy standing in the middle of the damn road. 

Luhan slammed on the brakes so hard he lifted off the seat. Magic pulsed and he felt the car lock up and freeze. Tao’s panicked burst of magic was still not enough to stop them in time. The car shuddered at the impact, a terrible crunching sound, and the boy caught in the headlights was sent flying into the darkness.

 

“Shit, what the _fuck_.” They scrambled out, horrified. Luhan turned on the flashlight in his phone. “Where is he – oh _spirits_.”

The thin beam of light found bare feet, scraped and bloody, then the calves and the knees connected to it. Luhan crouched down by the boy’s head and checked for a pulse. Still strong. It came with a weak flutter of magic. Mage. By some unspoken agreement, Tao took Luhan’s place.

“Hey, I’m Tao.”

The nearest city was almost an hour away. An ambulance wouldn’t make it faster than they could. Their only option: use Tao’s time magic to freeze everything until they got help. It had worked before. To their surprise, the boy’s eyelids trembled and opened. A pained whisper.

“Oh Sehun.” Korean. Tao switched, his tongue bending oddly around a language he hadn’t spoken for so long.

“I’ll have to cast magic on you ok? We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No.” The kid didn’t seem that beat up, actually. Luhan wasn’t sure what his magic was, but it had done its job protecting him. “No hospital.”

“What –”

“ _No._ ” His breath rattled and his words slurred. Then he _moved_. Tao looked ready to go ahead and use his magic, regardless of what Sehun said, until fingers smeared blood under his ear. Right where the scar of his SM brand lay. “No hospital. No city… no SM.”

Luhan’s brain forgot how to register words for a few seconds. He recovered faster than Tao did. “Ok. Ok, no SM. But you need to get to a hospital. We’ll be with you ok? No SM.”

Sehun’s hand fell slack and for a horrible moment, Luhan thought he’d died. Then a strained demand reached their ears.

“Name.” Names were important.

“This one’s Huang Zitao. I’m Lu Han. We’ll help you, ok?”

Sehun breathed a small noise. Tao must have taken it as a go ahead because he placed a hand on Sehun’s chest and let his magic flow. Sehun stopped breathing. Luhan knew that if he’d cut him, Sehun wouldn’t bleed either. Frozen in time.

 

They sacrificed their jackets and bundled up his stiff body, carefully putting him in the back, head resting on Tao’s lap. Luhan floored it and they zoomed off again. There was no need to question it – neither of them would have left Sehun out there to die.

“How long can you hold it?” He spoke over his shoulder. Casting magic was like balancing a scale, energy for power. Mages were people who could take energy from the Spirit realm and convert it. Use too much, however, and it recoiled. Luhan had seen a fire mage go up in flames from overuse and he never wanted to know what would happen to a time mage like Tao.

“Long enough. I’ll be fine.” He already sounded so tired. Luhan would have to take his word for it. “What about Yixing?”

“He’ll understand if we’re a little late.” And he would. He wouldn’t have left the kid alone either. Maybe ‘kid’ was a bit too young of a term, Sehun looked close to the end of his teens, just a bit younger than Tao was. Wait… how long had Sehun been running around with no shoes, a shirt and jeans?

“Lu, what are we going to do if SM spots us?” Tao asked quietly. Luhan shrugged. They’d fought their way out of SM before, but that had been with Kris. What a trio they used to make. He had a feeling that SM would be on their asses soon enough, especially if this kid had mentioned them.

“We’ll have to fight.”

“We’re missing our leader.”

Luhan could hear the hint of a smile in Tao’s voice. It was true – in many ways, Kris had been their leader. He’d stayed back in Seoul, after they’d left, to help others escape. It had been too easy, the way they lost contact. Luhan couldn’t help but wonder if he was even alive today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments! Kudos! <3  
> I feed off feedback. ^0^ *nom* and you can join me on twitter [@Willow4448](https://twitter.com/Willow4448?lang=en)


	2. Outbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hospice: a home providing care for the sick or terminally ill

Chanyeol flicked the lighter, catching its flame and nestling it in the palm of his hand. It saved him the trouble of starting a fire from scratch every single time.

They had left Kyungsoo’s safehouse before the sun rose and made their way here, another one of Seoul’s many motels. The station couldn’t be more than a five minute walk from here and the train was set to leave at half past eight. Rush hour would be over by then and, hopefully, the station would be relatively empty.

“Ready?” Kyungsoo flicked the curtains shut. He must have seen the brothers arrive.

“I was born ready.”

“You were probably born crying.”

“Who says you can’t be ready and crying at the same time?” Their banter was nonsense, something to ease the tight anticipation. Kyungsoo had talked to the motel owner earlier and Chanyeol remembered her serious nod as she handed over the room keys. As neutral as motels were supposed to be, those who knew of SM’s dark undercurrents had always been open to help. 

Three knocks. Chanyeol closed his fist around the flame, snuffing it, as Kyungsoo watched the door. Its knob dewed with water droplets then froze over, breathy chills of magic that tickled with familiarity. Brushing off the coating of frost, Kyungsoo let the brothers in.

 It had been a while, but Chanyeol recognized them easily. Minseok came first, lips pale and bluish, and Joonmyun relocked the door behind him. When he spotted Chanyeol, his face cracked into a smile that looked as brittle as his brother’s ice.

“Kyungsoo didn’t say who was coming to help.” He extended a hand and Chanyeol took it, pulling his ex-partner into a hug.

“Missed me?”

“In your dreams. Jobs were smooth without a loose cannon beside me.” When they pulled away, Joonmyun’s smile was a few degrees warmer. “So… you made it.”

“You’ll make it too.” Chanyeol would be lying if he said he wasn’t guilty. He was a coward once and Kris paid the price. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

He and Minseok kept a fair distance, nodding to each other instead – not out of lack of respect. Water was tolerable for Chanyeol. A more specific type like ice was not. Chanyeol forced down the bubble of heat in his chest that threatened to burst and fight Minseok’s chill. There was a tension to Minseok’s magic that carried the same stress. Minseok couldn’t afford to waste energy now.

They’d brought duffel bags, holding what they could bring. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo took them. The brothers wouldn’t be strong enough to carry them and run after this was over.

The contract was simple to break in theory, like a promise. Undo the agreement, cut the ties and you were done. The problem: It needed magic. Enough to equal the magic that created it in the first place. If they ran out halfway through, the contract would remain intact and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo would be scraping their remains off the walls.

 

Minseok and Joonmyun sank to the floor in the middle of the room, crossing their legs beneath them and facing each other. In uncanny similarity they rolled up their sleeves and wet their lips. As soon as they tampered with their contract, the master would know and they’d be on the kill list.

 Kyungsoo coughed. It wasn't a loud or jarring sound but they startled, focusing on him with sharp intensity.

“When it breaks we’ll have to move fast. As soon as we get on that train we’re safe.”

As chaotic as the magic world was, it had its laws. Secrecy was priority and in such a public space, there was no way SM could stop them.

“What about you guys?” Minseok frowned, “how will you get back here?”

“I know someone who can get us in.” The mysterious Jongin that Kyungsoo had talked about. Chanyeol was curious to meet him. Minseok didn’t press it, they were all too aware of the time slipping away, and exchanged a glance with his brother. They linked hands, silent, in childish reassurance.

“Does it hurt?” Joonmyun whispered.

Chanyeol found himself scratching at his scar. He remembered the burning, the terrible feeling of getting torn from the contract in his blood and –

“Not much.”

“No.” Kyungsoo’s reply clashed with his, too fast to be believable, but if Joonmyun could tell then he didn’t show it. The brothers closed their eyes.

 

The room temperature plummeted.

 

Moisture beaded across Chanyeol’s forehead and, by the time he wiped it away, it had frozen. Its coldness felt like fire. He worked his jaw and his ears popped. Magic condensed with the water, thick and heavy, filling the room with its presence. Chanyeol stepped back to distance himself from the profusion of energy. Heat tugged and pulled under his skin, attempting to react, but Chanyeol kept it controlled in his veins. He could hear the magic, a silent wind rushing past his face.

 A crack shot through the air. Chanyeol whipped around to see the window webbing over with fracture lines. The pressure spiked and glass exploded, shredding the curtains. Joonmyun and Minseok’s knuckles were white with how tightly they gripped each other.

 The ink of their contracts faded, the pattern shrivelling and warping. Almost there. Chanyeol’s sneakers were frozen to the floor. Energy pulsed until he was sure his _head_ would explode. Was this how Kris felt, when he held Chanyeol through the same thing?

 White drifted into his vision. Snow. Right there in the room. The chill wavered.

 One final shuddering moment and the snow turned to raindrops. Frost melted and soaked into the wallpaper, staining it. The brother’s broke apart, blown away by that final blast of power. They staggered to their feet. Kyungsoo was already at the door.

“Let’s go.”

Chanyeol brought up the rear, herding them out. The master would have felt the contract break. There’d be SM mages on their tail soon enough.

 

Behind the others, he could see how shaky the brothers were, could see Joonmyun stop and fumble for his brother’s sleeve. Chanyeol was close enough to hear his strangled whisper and watch the first rivulet of blood trickle from his nose. 

Joonmyun collapsed.

Darting forward, Chanyeol caught him before he could crack his head open on the floor. He didn’t think twice before picking Joonmyun up and cradling him by his chest. The still-healing wound in his hip stung reproachfully. He jerked his chin, motioning for Minseok to move.

“Go, I’ve got him – _go_.”

 

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How the hell did an ant get in here? Luhan watched it crawl past his shoe. Wind ruffled at his hair and he yanked up his shirt to cover it, scowling. Sehun would survive, that was for sure. He was a mage after all, no matter how young, but this constant woosh of his magic was getting on Luhan’s nerves.

In the chair beside him, Tao stirred with a small pulse of magic. The ant on the floor froze. A yawn from Tao and the ant kept going.

“Morning, sunshine.” Luhan watched as Tao rubbed his eyes and blinked to adjust to the yellow glow of sun. The hospital was safe for them, as neutral as motels were, and they should’ve been able to sleep without worry. Luhan had stayed awake anyways. He checked the time. Seven-thirty. He looked back at Sehun. Wild, panicked eyes stared back at him.

 

Sharp wind ripped the blankets off the bed. Luhan batted it away and jumped to his feet. Sehun was scrambling for the door. Luhan clenched his fist, reaching out with his magic and holding it shut. Not the best move. When Sehun tried the handle and it didn’t budge, he _freaked_.

 

Luhan dodged a slice of air and lunged forward. He didn’t mean to smack Sehun’s head into the floor like that but oh well. It worked. Sehun swiped weakly for his face. Luhan pinned his hands down.

“Calm down.”

The kid hissed at him, actually _hissed_ , and struggled. “Fuck you.”

“Do you remember us?” Luhan hoped the hit to his head didn’t affect his memory.

“Get _off_ me.”

“Do you remember us?” Tao’s voice was softer, more unsure. At least it seemed to get somewhere. Sehun stopped wriggling enough to level a suspicious glare.

“Where am I?”

“Changchun.” Tao said. “Lu, get off him.”

“Tao –”

“ _Luhan_.”

Grumbling, Luhan stood up and tugged his shirt back into place. The kid sat up, knees drawing close to his chest in defense. Tao sat down in front of him.

“Hi. I’m –”

“Zitao.”

“Just Tao is fine.” He titled his head, a gesture Luhan knew meant ‘get out’ in Tao’s polite code. Sighing, Luhan relaxed his magic and opened the door, easing out into the corridor. Tao was better at dealing with people anyways.

 

They hadn’t wanted to risk going outside to buy clothes for the kid, as stained and bloody as the originals were, so they’d handed those off to the laundry room and hoped for the best. Sehun could borrow their extra jackets and shoes. Luhan didn’t think he’d want to run around in a hospital gown. 

The patients on the fourth floor were all mages. Most normal people didn’t even know this floor existed. The elevator skipped this floor – the missing button was chalked up to superstition. Most buildings omitted the number, it’s pronunciation too close to the word for ‘death’ in Chinese. It was different for mages though, a lucky number. Four main elements for the first four mages ever recorded in history.

Ground floor. Where was the laundry room again – there it was. Luhan gave his name, a random made-up name, and was handed back a neatly folded pile of Sehun’s clothes. He checked the size out of idle curiosity and almost went back to complain that he’d been handed the wrong set. Sehun didn’t seem that tall. Maybe ‘kid’ wasn’t the correct term.

Back up the stairs. Floor one. Floor two. Three… Luhan waved his hand and the door for four swung open by itself. Telekinesis wasn’t rare or flashy, but Luhan wouldn’t trade it for the world. He used to make himself float, accompanying Kris as he flew over rooftops and trees. Tao used to be shorter then. He’d cling onto someone’s back and laugh and shriek.

He scowled at the ugly, fake potted plants that lined the corridor. They needed some life in here. 

Luhan’s neck prickled. That woman was staring at him. Correction: she was staring at his scar. Luhan fought the urge to cover it up, glaring back. Messed up Guilds like SM were far and few between, and breaking a contract was likened to betrayal. Most mages judged the scar without knowing the story behind it. Miffed, Luhan ignored her and stepped back into their hospital room.

 

Wind slammed the door shut and Luhan jumped, biting his tongue. He heard Tao stifle a laugh as the air settled. Luhan set the clothes at the end of the bed.

“Where’s the kid?”

“My name is Sehun, old man.” He came out of the bathroom to snatch up his clothes and disappeared again. Luhan caught a flash of a bare, ridged stomach.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

Luhan raised his eyebrows at Tao. “Okay, what happened?”

Tao shrugged, still speaking in his accented Korean. “He said he’s from Seoul and he wants to tag along with us.”

“Did you tell him how we were going to get there?”

“Uh, no.”

“Did you ask him how he got to the middle of nowhere in China?”

“Yes.”

“Then how the hell did he get to the middle of nowhere in China?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

Luhan pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache growing. Sehun’s re-entrance didn’t help. His hair was an untamed bird’s nest. It was strange, how mages of the same type could differ so vastly. Kris was a wind mage too and he never looked more than a little ruffled. Sehun limped back to the bed and gingerly sat himself down. If he wanted to come with them, Luhan hoped desperately that he’d be in full working condition.

“Ok, ki – Sehun. You need to tell us what happened to you.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, at least tell us how bad the whole SM situation is.”

“It’s pretty fucking bad.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down.” Luhan sighed. “Ok. Yes or no questions. Were you alone?”

“No.”

“Are your friends alive?”

“… probably not.”

“You don’t look too bad for someone who saw your friends die.”

“I said _probably_ because I didn’t fucking _see them_. Can we keep it to yes or no?”

Luhan opened his mouth to continue but a Tao stopped him, fingers brushing lightly down his arm. He let Tao talk.

“Are you currently in a Guild?”

“No.”

“Did you want to join SM?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the truth about the contract?”

Sehun frowned at him. “What truth? It’s just a Guild contract right?”

Luhan’s heart sank. Kid didn’t know.

“Do you know why you ended up like… this?”

“No.”

“Is SM after you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

“Yes.” Sehun hesitated. “Yes and no. They’re after me because I escaped, but I don’t know why they wanted to kill me in the first place.”

“Can we move past ‘yes or no?’”

“Yeah.”

Tao’s speech was getting slower and slower, his tongue picking through the words more carefully. “How many people were with you?”

“Ten, including me.”

“Who attacked you?”

“Our instructor.” Sehun took a deep breath. “I signed up for a training program in SM, they said we’d travel out here so we could use our magic freely.”

“Did your instructor have a contract? What did they look like?”

“Uh, yeah. She had a contract.” Oh no. “She looked really young. Short hair. Tom-boyish?”

Luhan jerked, sudden realization zipping down his spine. “We need to get out of here.”

“Wha –”

“I saw her, outside. She recognized my scar. Sehun, we’ll explain how we’re getting back to Seoul in the car ok?” Luhan forced himself to stay calm. There was only one mage out there. They’d handled worse before. “I’ll go distract her. You guys run for the car.”

Tao nodded but, of course, Sehun had to object. “By yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Can you really do that, old man?”

“I’m twenty-eight. Let’s meet in the middle and agree to call each other by name?”

Sehun laughed. It was short, high-pitched and nervous. “I’m bad at keeping promises.”

“Just stay behind Tao.”

Right before Luhan could leave the room again, Sehun’s whisper reached his ears.

“Thanks. For helping me last night.”

“No problem, kid.” Then he left, cutting off Sehun’s retort.

 

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Kyungsoo’s original plan had included five people. Kris was no longer in the equation. They’d have to make do. No one payed much attention to them. There was that extra kick of something in mages that deterred the non-magic populace. 

It had already been heavy with clouds outside, so Chanyeol wasn't paying too much attention to the sound of muffled thunder until Joonmyun gripped his sleeve. Ahead, Kyungsoo and Minseok stiffened.

“Who is it?” Chanyeol asked them, frowning, trying to sense this new player on the field.

“Lightning mage.” Kyungsoo motioned for Chanyeol to move ahead of him. They were so close, one more long underground passageway to the platform to go. “I’ll meet you on the train.”

“Like hell you are.” Chanyeol set Joonmyun on his feet and reached for his lighter. He flicked it experimentally. Earth was a slow sort of magic, no matter how strong, and Soo would have to work to keep up with lightning. Chanyeol gave Kyungsoo a little shove. “You go. If I’m not on the train when it leaves, I’ll be back at the motel.”

 

There wasn’t a moment to spare. Kyungsoo led the brothers away, Minseok leaving him with one last piece of information.

“His name is Jongdae.”

Eight-fifteen. No one else in the passageway. Chanyeol’s hair stood on end with an uncomfortable prickle. There wasn’t another way to the platform unless you wanted to scale the station, break through the roof and jump down. Too conspicuous.

 

A spark and the lights above died. It wasn’t the same magic Chanyeol had felt last night with Baekhyun. This one was jittery, jumpy, excitable. Mischievous. Another spark. Chanyeol couldn’t quite see the corners of the ceiling but he was pretty sure that was the security cameras. It wasn’t pitch-dark, light from either end of the passageway illuminating the space, but Chanyeol flicked the lighter and drew flame.

Footsteps approached and suddenly, the space was alive with electricity. It buzzed through the air and his clothes stung with static. Chanyeol splayed his hand and drove the power back a few paces with heat. All he could see of Jongdae was a shadowy silhouette.

“Get out of the way.” Jongdae's voice didn’t match his magic, dead serious. Chanyeol clapped his hands and twined fire with his fingers.

“No.”

“Look, you’re Baek’s job. Not mine.”

“And you are?”

“Someone who doesn’t want a fight.”

“Neither. So if you could leave, that would be great.” He heard Jongdae sigh, knuckles cracking as he stretched. Were those his bones or his magic?

“The name’s Jongdae.”

Chanyeol opened his mouth, about to introduce himself, when Jongdae’s magic crackled to life.

 

Lightning arched between them. Chanyeol’s fire danced to meet it and magic dissipated, cancelling each other out. It left behind an unpleasant burning smell. 

Jongdae bolted and Chanyeol almost missed him, catching him by the hem of his shirt and yanking. Electricity jumped up his arm and his muscles spasmed, fingers going out of control. Orange lashed, hot, driving Jongdae and his magic away. Chanyeol’s attack was relatively harmless, aimed for defence, and most of Jongdae was out of the way. That was, until Jongdae sidestepped straight into the fire. 

Chanyeol balked at the last second, the intensity of his flames dwindling. It still carried enough force to knock Jongdae off his feet. The smell of singed cloth reached Chanyeol’s nose as Jongdae picked himself up. There was no more charge to the air. Jongdae coughed, casting a vague hand towards his blistered skin. 

“This isn’t a good enough excuse.” The master didn’t like failed jobs. If Jongdae wanted to return empty-handed, he was going to have to return half-dead. Chanyeol fiddled with the lighter, unwilling, until Jongdae spoke again.

“There’s only me.” Only him on this job?

“Why?”

“The brothers were popular.” Ah. The master wasn’t an idiot, he knew a job had higher chances of success if the mage doing it held no personal ties. Then who was Jongdae, if he knew the brothers but not enough to care? “I was the only one close enough to catch up.” 

Eight twenty-six. Chanyeol had to go. 

He approached with gritted teeth, reaching out slowly enough for Jongdae to run if he wanted to. He didn’t. Fire leapt forth, searing, and when Jongdae’s scream clawed into his ears, Chanyeol felt twenty years old again on his first kill order, choking on the smell of burning flesh.

 

He left the SM mage there, hoping someone found him soon and got help. Chanyeol ran for the light at the end of the passageway, squinting, jumping up the stairs to the platform. 

He took the first open door onto the train. It closed behind him and he leant back on it, breathing hard. Pain flared in his hip – that damn stab wound felt like it’d been ripped open again – and his hand, the one that had come into contact with Jongdae, couldn’t clench properly. Chanyeol shook it, massaging the pricks of pins and needles from under his skin. Which seat were they in? He patted around for his ticket.

 

They’d booked one of those booths where the front two seats faced backwards. Chanyeol found them three cars down as the train began to move, collapsing into the seat by Kyungsoo’s.

“You made it.”

 Chanyeol melted, turned to jelly as the tension bled out of him. The brothers had their eyes closed, pale and seemingly asleep. They’d have time to ask about Lay later. It was going to be a long ride and they all could use a break for now.

 

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Where was she? Luhan could feel her, muffled and far away. He was getting closer. Warm. Warmer. He turned a corner. Hot. She had her hands stuffed into her pockets, sleeveless arms sculpted with muscle. He should have looked closer before, because now he could see the black peeks of SM’s contract under her hairline.

“Good morning.” What was her magic? Jumping in blindly was a really bad idea. As an escaped mage himself, she must know all about him. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Get out of my way.”

“Rude.”

“I don’t want to kill more than I have to.”

“Did you really kill all his friends?”

Her lips thinned. Luhan noted how pale her skin was, but she seemed steady, nothing like a newbie to SM’s jobs. Had he met her before he left? She took a steadying breath.

“You aren’t my job. So move.”

“Yeah, that’s cool. I have this self-employment sort of thing going where I try to prevent SM murdering kids –” Luhan ducked and her fist went over his head. His back hit the wall and she was still coming at him like a truck. He flipped to the side and her punch sank into the wall, cracking the plaster. Enhancement-type magic. She could break his neck with her pinky. 

Luhan twisted, shoving back with an open palm. Physically it wouldn’t have hurt a fly, but the magic he piled behind it slammed into her gut. She wheezed, stumbled and – kicked Luhan so hard in the ribs he was pretty sure something broke.

 

Fingers curled around his throat and the world tumbled upside down.

“Wait, _wait_!” Luhan gasped. “Name?”

Her grip tightened. “Amber.”

She was really going to kill him and she would have, if Luhan hadn’t crooked his finger and brought that ugly, fake potted plant crashing into her face. It shattered upon impact and Luhan could breathe again. He got to his feet. She did too, barely looking fazed. 

He was aware of cracked open doors, curious gazes surveying their fight. No one would intervene. If a mage picked a fight, they would finish it. By now, Tao and Sehun’s energies were fading, almost out of the building. 

Amber charged and Luhan fled. Not to the stairs. Back to the their room. He barged through the door, almost tearing it off its hinges, and reached for the metal rails of the hospital bed just as Amber caught his sleeve. 

An elbow cracked across his cheek and his head snapped back. Luhan clenched his fist and yanked with his magic. Metal shrieked. Amber dragged him backwards. The railings ripped free, straightening out, and Luhan sent it shooting towards her.

 

She screamed, a sound that scratched into his ears, and Luhan was freed. He turned, panting. Blood dripped, the thin piece of metal having gone through her shoulder and into the wall. Pinned like a bug in a display case. Luhan stumbled out of the room. His ribs felt like they were on fire. 

It was a hospital. She’d be fine. 

He needed to move his ass. His sense of balance was just enough to save him from an express trip down the stairs.

People stared as he walked out of reception. No one stopped him.

Car. Tao had foreseen the most probable outcome and taken the wheel. Luhan didn’t have the strength to complain that Sehun had taken shotgun. He flopped into the backseat, scrambling to pull the door shut then flopping backwards until he was lying flat out across the seats.

 

“Drive.”

 

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“Of course his real name isn’t Lay.” Minseok frowned. His fingers tapped a steady beat on the window but, exhausted as he was, no ice bloomed over the glass. “He’s Chinese, called Yixing – Zhang Yixing. You already know he’s a blood mage.”

“How similar is he to the master?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Very.”

So he was unpredictable, savage and halfway to crazy. That’s great. Chanyeol shivered. “So he can heal?”

“Maybe even better than the master does. We saw him take a bullet to the leg once, it popped out and he kept running. Didn’t even blink.”

Joonmyun leant forward to take Chanyeol’s hand. He’d been digging his nails so hard into his scar that he’d drawn blood. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyways,” Kyungsoo let his own hand drop into his lap, unaware it had been imitating Chanyeol’s. “What’s the extent of his magic? Is it any different to the master’s?”

“Mostly similar, only one big difference. The master needs something like the contract, an agreement, to control another’s blood. Yixing only needs physical contact.” Joonmyun said.

“Physical contact with someone or specifically their blood?”

“Specifically their blood. But then again, we have never seen him use it offensively. He leaves behind a trail of miraculous recoveries – that’s how he finds a place to stay. He does favours for the motel owners and they keep him safe.”

He sighed. Blood was a strange sort of magic, a type that had its bases in water. Chanyeol knew Joonmyun had always been the type to worry easily, but healing like blood mages did was something he couldn’t do.

“Do you have pictures?”

“We sent you a file…” Minseok craned to look as Kyungsoo pulled out his phone. It reminded Chanyeol that he was still running on some Chinese sim card needed a working phone quick.

 

Zhang Yixing _was_ similar to the master. Very. It wasn’t in his features. It was in the way he looked straight out of the digital, dead picture and into their souls. Chanyeol nudged the phone back to Kyungsoo, unsettled, and let the earth mage ask the questions.

“So we look through the motels.”

“That’s a viable option, but there’s another.” Minseok said. “He works at Pyeong-on Hospice. He takes shifts from four in the afternoon to four in the morning.”

“That can’t be enough to live off.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to pay for somewhere to live _in_.”

There wasn’t much after that. Chanyeol zoned out, exhausted, lulled by the relative silence.

 

Outside the train was a blur of greens and dull blue. Chanyeol watched the countryside pass, peaceful and soothing. As fast as the land changed, the clouds stayed the same – wispy and soft but a cold, steely grey. Like Kris. He’d never been ferocious enough to be likened to the unruly nature of wind. Kris would always be present, sometimes imposing, sometimes dark, but mostly a reassurance. Chanyeol never liked the open sky. 

Another hour in and Joonmyun and Minseok were asleep again. Chanyeol needed a distraction fast or he'd be thinking about Kris forever.

“Soo.” He waited for Kyungsoo to turn. “You said the teleporter would get us back. Is he…”

Yours? Your lover? Your heart? Kyungsoo had only mentioned this guy twice, but the way his stony expression melted told Chanyeol enough. He was expecting it again, that softness, but Kyungsoo’s face hardened.

“Jongin is – he’s still in SM.” Kyungsoo was scratching at his scar again. “He’s like you.”

 

If Jongin was what Chanyeol had been, then Kyungsoo was Jongin’s Kris.

 

Chanyeol remembered the fear, the kick of terror whenever he returned to SM building after spending the night in Kris’s bed, whispering SM’s secrets and plans over the pillow. They’d been so desperate, so lonely. Chanyeol had always been by himself, other young mages keeping away from his random bursts of fire. Kris’s friends had left. They’d met, they’d fucked, and the very first time Chanyeol woke with Kris’s arms around him he was offered an escape.

“Does he want to run?” He must.

“He said he would but…” Kyungsoo was not the type to go fragile and shaky when he was anxious. Chanyeol could feel his magic settled around them, heavy and upset. “Do you remember the light mage, from last night?”

How could he? “Yeah, why?”

“We were friends. Once.” It sure didn’t seem like it. Baekhyun had looked ready to kill. “He loves Jongin as much as I do.”

“Is Jongin staying for him?”

“That’s half of the reason but, Jongin’s – I think he’s staying for me too.” Kyungsoo said, irritably carding a hand through his hair. “He contacted me, after I left, and I was stupid enough to tell him I needed an insider, someone who could tell me everything.”

Chanyeol had nothing to say to that.

 

The rest of the train ride passed in fitful naps. The train had no jerk to it when it stopped, so Chanyeol and Kyungsoo roused the brothers. Joonmyun and Minseok insisted on carrying their own bags. They looked a shade better, steadier on their feet as they walked through the underground station complex and found the exit to the airport. 

Chanyeol had his eyes peeled and senses prickling for any sort of magical interference but, surprisingly, there was none. He wasn’t going to complain. An escape that went smoothly was reason to be happy.

For some reason, they stopped outside the airport’s sliding glass doors. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo weren’t meant to pass, a strange restriction they’ve imposed upon themselves. They felt no right to freedom, not without Kris or Jongin.

“Where will you go?” Chanyeol asked them.

“Shanghai first, then we’re taking the ferry down to Fuzhou. We’ll be too late for the boat tonight so we’ll be on the one tomorrow morning.” Minseok bowed, a full ninety degrees, and Joonmyun followed suit. “Thank you.”

Neither Kyungsoo nor Chanyeol were saints. “Thank you too, for telling us what we needed.”

This time it was Joonmyun who wrapped Chanyeol in a shaky hug. His head barely brushed past Chanyeol’s shoulders. “I hope we meet again.”

“We will.” Chanyeol smiled his radiant smile, knowing that Kris would have been able to pick up on the strain behind it. But Kris wasn’t here and his anxious little secret was safe.

 

They watched the brothers pass into the airport, fading behind glass doors, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

“Lu –”

“I’m fine.” Luhan gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to move. He didn’t think his ribs were splintered or anything, just fractured. He’d be back to normal in two days. The bruises on his neck and face were already fading. Maybe his cheekbone was fractured too – it hurt a lot. “Just keep your eyes on the road, please.”

“Should we call Yixing?”

“Well, we sure as hell aren’t going to catch that ferry to Seoul by tonight so yes, we should call him.”

“Who’s Yixing?” Sehun twisted around in his seat to stare at Luhan’s prone form.

“He’s none of your business.”

“Hey –”

“Please don’t speak too loudly.” Tao said. “I’m not very good at driving.”

Sehun turned back to the front with a huff. “I just want to know what’s going on.”  
“Yixing is our friend. He wants us to come back to Seoul.”

“Actually, you never said how you were getting back there.” Sehun’s voice sounded curious. Luhan couldn’t see his face because he’d opted to shut his eyes. Tao could handle this.

“We’re driving to Shanghai and taking the ferry to Seoul. We intended to board the boat by tonight, but we’ve missed it, so we’ll try and get a place in the one tomorrow morning.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok, it’s not your fault.” Tao said and Luhan could almost see that timid, sweet smile of his. “Um. Could you grab our phone?”

“Sure, what’s the password.”

“Uh. There isn’t one.”

“Oh.” A few moments of silence. Luhan guessed he was flicking through their contacts. “This guy?”

“Yep. Put it on speaker?” It started to ring.

 

Their phone bill this month would be insane.

 

The ringing stopped.

“Hello?”

Tao stayed silent. Luhan answered for him. “Hey, Xing, we’re going to be late.”

Yixing answered with a confused hum and it tailed off into that eerie tune. Sehun looked creeped out, jumping when Yixing spoke again.

“How long will you take?”

“We’ll be there really early in the morning, day after tomorrow.”

“Mmmmm – okay.” Yixing paused. “We?”

“Yeah, Tao’s with me.” Explaining Sehun would be too complicated. Luhan ignored Tao’s frantic head shaking. “Tao, say hi.”

 

“Hi.” His voice was tiny.

 

Yixing hung up on them.

Luhan gave a long, drawn out sigh and winced as pain lanced through his chest. “You and Xing really need to make up.”

“I’ve tried before, Lu.” He had. Yixing hadn’t been very cooperative.

 

They stopped for lunch in one of those country towns where the sweat of its workers stained the buildings instead of fixing them. These sorts of places were always the friendliest. Luhan stayed rather uselessly in the car and kept his breathing even.

The door opened and Tao perched by his head, looking out at the empty rice fields and clear blue skies. His breaths misted in the air.

“Where’s Sehun?”

“He’s calling his parents.”

Oh. Parents. Luhan had forgotten they were a thing. “Did he say what he was going to tell them?”

“He said he was going to lie about it until he met them face to face.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” No need for random freaking out. “Tao.”

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

Tao laughed and poked him on the forehead. “That’s what I should be asking you.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I’m okay. Like, only okay. It’s not the best situation right now.”

“Do you think we should have just left him in the hospital?”

“No way.”

“Good, I didn’t think so either.” Luhan shifted to stop the seat belt from digging into his hip and groaned. “Ow.” 

 

Tao stopped speaking. Luhan knew that look on his face. It was the I’m-thinking-really-hard-about-something face. “Luhan…”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“I haven’t even said it yet.” Tao kicked his legs against the car and light vibrations travelled up Luhan’s spine. “You can’t go through all the fights by yourself anymore.”

“Yes I can.” If there was one thing that Luhan was absolutely sure about, this was it. “You’re not fighting. Not on my watch.”

 

Tao was the youngest mage SM had ever exposed to the contract, had ever sent to kill someone. Time was rarer than blood, so useful, and the master didn’t give two shits about age when it came to jobs. Luhan never wanted to see Tao panic again - not in the way he used to where he screamed and kicked and no one could calm him down. 

“Luhan, I don’t want to, but I’ll have to. Sooner or later, you know I will.”

“No you won’t.” Luhan reached for Tao’s hands, warming them with his own. He still remembered how Tao’s magic wrapped around others, stopped their hearts, cut their time short. After SM, Tao never really regained full control over his magic. “You won’t have to. Not while I'm still alive.”

Really, the only reason why he thought of Sehun as a kid was because he looked about as old as Tao. They weren’t so much different in age – Tao was only two years older.

Tao didn’t press it but Luhan could tell the subject would come up again. Luhan willed his ribs to heal extra fast. There was no use in praying for SM to stop attacking them. It would happen eventually. 

A sharp gust cut into Luhan’s clothes and drew out a shiver. Sehun had returned. He handed back the phone and they settled back into their places, seatbelts clicking. Another seven hours to Shanghai.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

No cliché shaft of sunlight woke Jongin. Instead, it was the boom of thunder. Someone had put a blanket over him. It had to be someone because Jongin didn’t remember doing much of anything before he passed out last night. Baekhyun hadn’t opened his door and now, when Jongin checked, his room was empty. The bed was made too, which was unusual. Baekhyun only did that when he had too much on his mind. 

What’s the time? Jongin checked. Almost one in the afternoon. Kyungsoo should be texting him soon.

With nothing more to do, Jongin dragged the blanket back to his bed and folded it neatly, listening to the sound of rain. He waited. His phone buzzed.

He tapped open the message. A picture. It looked like a quiet corner of street, easily found in any city, but Jongin studied it and chewed his lip. Kyungsoo had said they were in Mokpo and Jongin had said he could do it. It didn’t mean doing it was easy.

 

He stripped off his jumper and left his feet bare. Really, it was a mental reassurance. Less weight, easier teleportation. He’d have to get pretty damn far this time, to a place he’d never even been before. He sent a quick text back, just to give himself some time to calm down.

_I’m coming_.

Then he set the phone down on the couch and shook himself out. The image was embedded in his sight, clear and perfect, a real place he could step into. On his inhale, he drew up his magic, wrapped it around him and dragged himself out of his current space. He held his breath, already winded, as the world around him warped and turned in bursts of sound. Then he exhaled and stepped forward from the shadows into dreary afternoon light.

 

The scene before him was exact, a perfect landing. No one was around. He tapped his ears, working his jaw, until his hearing returned. Someone was calling his name.

The pavement was rough under his bare feet. Jongin turned and round eyes stared back it him, tilted up in that smile he knew so well. Kyungsoo’s arm wrapped around his waist and his heavy, earth magic grounded Jongin into this new space, reassuring. Jongin couldn’t help but lean over to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Hey.”

“You okay?” Kyungsoo pulled back to look, no doubt taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his usually tanned skin. Jongin smiled and nodded. Someone cleared their throat.

“Um.”

Jongin turned quickly, remembering what he was here for. Park Chanyeol did not look so tall last night – to be honest, Jongin didn’t think he would make it. He shuffled away from Kyungsoo, suddenly self-conscious, and waved hesitantly.

“Hi. I’m Jongin.”

He grinned and Jongin relaxed. “Soo’s talked about you.”

“Nothing too weird?”

“I mean, we’re all pretty weird.” Chanyeol had one of those sunny faces that radiated warmth and comfort. Kind of like how Baekhyun used to be.

Jongin laced his fingers together and stretched out his arms, shaking his muscles loose again. The maximum he’d ever carried with him was a group of five and he’d almost killed himself doing it. Three of them should be a doable strain. He held out his hands. Kyungsoo instantly took his right, clutching tight, but Chanyeol hesitated, a certain nervousness to his expression.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to the other teleporter?”

“He exploded.”

“Ah.” The fire mage looked rather queasy.

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “Yeol’s always hated teleporting.”

“I prefer flying around, actually. Heights are ok.”

“I’d take exploding over spontaneous combustion any day.” Kyungsoo’s lips twitched and Jongin knew he was fighting down a laugh. “C’mon.”

Chanyeol relented and grasped Jongin’s left hand and – _hot_. Jongin flinched but he didn’t let go.

“Ok, basic rules of travelling. Please don’t use magic or anything related to magic whilst I teleport, it could throw me off and we’ll explode.”

Chanyeol’s grip on him tightened. Jongin decided to stop teasing the poor guy.  
  
  
He didn’t give them any warning.

  
Gritting his teeth, Jongin forced his magic to stretch, including the other two men. It grew thin and Jongin prodded cautiously with his mind, checking. It didn’t tear. They were good to go. Kyungsoo’s living room flooded into view, their destination, then Jongin was dragging them forward. 

Instead of the usual slip through space, Jongin shoved and pulled, heaving them along, all the while keeping the living room set clearly before him. The faded shapes and white noise lasted for a few seconds longer than usual before it broke and they were back in rainy Seoul. Jongin released them and braced his hands on his knees, panting as if he’d sprinted a mile.

 

Someone handed him a cup of water. The heated plastic warmed his hands. Kyungsoo didn’t turn the overhead lights on, the only illumination coming from outside, and Jongin gave a grateful sigh. Bright lights gave him headaches when he was tired.

When Kyungsoo reappeared, Jongin had gotten his breath back, easing the kinks out of his sore arms. He never fully understood why he ached after copious magic use. Maybe he was getting closer to exploding. Smaller hands wormed around his waist.

“I’ve missed you.” The little apartment block seemed to shiver. It was on ground floor – Kyungsoo hated to part from the earth for any period of time – and Jongin took comfort in his magic. There were certain precautions Kyungsoo had taken to stay under SM’s watchful eyes and it cocooned Jongin.

“I have a bit of time.” Jongin brushed Kyungsoo’s hair playfully. It was growing long – he knew Kyungsoo liked to keep it as short as he could without actually being bald. Chanyeol, forgotten until now, coughed, startling them out of their world.

“Uh. I’m just gonna take a walk.” The fire mage didn’t wait for a reply before leaving, the sound of the front door closing muted by the walls.

“Is that a good idea?” Jongin frowned. “SM’s still looking.”

Kyungsoo sighed and went after him. “God he’s an idiot – Chanyeol!”

The fire mage was still pulling his shoes on, hopping around on one foot. “Yeah?”

“Get back in here.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeol –”

“I’m serious. I’ll just drop by the hospice to see if I can find Yixing’s shift. Joonmyun said he doesn’t work today anyways.”

“We already know his shift times.”

“Then I’ll go get lunch or something. It’s almost two.” Chanyeol finished pulling on his shoes. “You guys do you.”

“Chanyeol –”

“I need some time on my own, Soo.” He gave a small, awkward wave and walked away so fast it was almost a run. They let him go.

 

Kyungsoo closed the door but he didn’t lock it. He leveled a gaze at Jongin that made him shiver. Jongin cupped Kyungsoo’s face, bending down to press their lips together. Something sparked inside him, his messy magic settling, anchored down by Kyungsoo’s earth. His hands wandered, finding the scarred patch of skin under Kyungsoo’s ear and rubbing small circles, tracing the ridged patterns. Kyungsoo went loose under his touch, hot breath brushing his lips, and Jongin tugged him closer with a groan. 

They could kiss for hours. They didn’t have hours.

Jongin bit lightly on Kyungsoo’s lower lip. It looked red, swollen from his ravishing, and the glistening sheen of saliva sent a bolt of arousal down Jongin’s spine. He bit again, harder, and Kyungsoo moaned.

“Quickly –” He pushed gently and Jongin went along with it, tumbling backwards onto the couch without complaint.

 Desperate for intimacy, they didn’t break their kiss. Jongin winced when teeth dug into his tongue. The faint taste of iron shared between them. He sat up and Kyungsoo’s weight shifted, his thighs wrapping around Jongin’s waist. Jongin laughed, out of breath for the second time in under ten minutes, and lifted his chin, allowing Kyungsoo to nose down his neck. Kyungsoo’s hum buzzed into Jongin’s veins. Nails scraped under the hem of Jongin’s shirt and he leaned back, helping Kyungsoo tug off their shirts, impatient.

 

Kyungsoo broke away for air, a flush to his pale cheeks, and they stared, inches away from each other. Jongin moved slowly, his hand sliding between Kyungsoo’s legs. Kyungsoo shivered under his touch, arching impatiently for pressure. Licking at those red, slicked lips, Jongin gave in and ground the heel of his palm against Kyungsoo’s crotch.

Kyungsoo threw his head back with a breathy moan and Jongin left his lips to suck at his neck instead. Soft red bloomed, a steady path down to his collarbone. Jongin knew they’d turn dark purple by tomorrow morning but he wouldn’t be there to see it. The thought only made him suck harder, rolling and tugging skin with his tongue and teeth, living off the way Kyungsoo’s throat worked around his gasps.

“ _Jongin_ –” Kyungsoo dropped his weight, grinding downwards and trying to press closer.

“Soo, slow down.” Jongin stopped, his hand merely resting over the outline of Kyungsoo’s half-hard cock. They had a bit of time to mess around – more than they usually did. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Jongin froze, horror creeping into his bones. Maybe they had time for today, but the day after that and the day after _that_ …

“Soo – Soo stop.”

Kyungsoo stopped. They could always read each other so easily. He untangled himself from Jongin smoothly, sitting cross legged beside him instead. “What’s wrong?”

Jongin hadn’t changed out of his clothes last night – does he still have the note? He’d shoved it out of his head last night, with Baekhyun to deal with, and he’d ignored about it purely because he wanted to. But he couldn’t do that anymore. Jongin fished the handwritten note Jongdae had given him and straightened it out. Kyungsoo took a long time to read it. Only three words.

_Kill Do Kyungsoo_.

“When did you get this?”

“Just last night.” Jongin folded it up and put it back in his pocket.

“What’s the time limit?”

“A week.”

“You need to get out of there.”

“I _can’t_.”

Kyungsoo chewed on his already abused lips. His thoughts were so loud, Jongin could almost hear them.

“You can always take Baekhyun out with you.”

Baekhyun would never. Jongin’s heart hurt. “He’s different now.”

“What do you mean?”

Jongin picked up his discarded shirt and picked at it, not meeting Kyungsoo’s gaze. “I’ve told you before, that he’s changed.” 

That was a terrible night, one spent with Kyungsoo peppering kisses into his hair as he cried and spilt all his worries. Baekhyun didn’t talk to him like he used to. Baekhyun didn’t smile anymore. Baekhyun didn’t do much of anything, really, other than grind through his jobs like some sort of machine.

“The Baekhyun I knew would take freedom without a blink.”

Jongin shook his head and flopped sideways. They rearranged themselves, Jongin’s cheek resting on Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

“He’s not that Baekhyun anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments! Kudas <3  
> I exist on twitter as well ;) [@Willow4448](https://twitter.com/Willow4448?lang=en)


	3. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I'd post at least kind of weekly? I lied lol. Probably won't have a decent posting schedule for the next two months because exams T.T  
> If you want to make sure I haven't keeled over and died or anything check teh twitter: https://twitter.com/Willow4448  
> No matter how long a fic takes, I'll never drop it >:)

Kyungsoo had fallen asleep, head resting on Jongin’s chest, breathing lightly over Jongin’s shirt. The sun had sunk under the horizon and cast the apartment in a warm orange glow. Time to leave. Jongin gently shifted Kyungsoo over, leaving him curled up on the couch, and slipped away.

A cloud of heat hovered outside the door. It had been there for a while now. Jongin guessed that Chanyeol didn’t want to intrude on them after returning from his ‘walk’.

Jongin didn’t like teleporting out of Soo’s apartment. It was too jarring, ripping him out of his comfort zone. Still barefoot from before, Jongin’s steps were soft and silent. He eased open the front door just as quietly and peeked out to see Chanyeol pacing back and forth. Fire flickered across Chanyeol’s fingertips as he gestured, agitated, in the same way people bit their lip or scratched their nose. Jongin watched, mildly fascinated by his magic. Fire was volatile and impulsive, not good qualities for a teleporter, but there was something so alive about the way Chanyeol used it.

“Is Soo awake?” The sudden question jerked Jongin out of his reverie and he raised his gaze to meet the fire mage’s warm eyes. Jongin shook his head and eased the rest of the way outside. Waving the tiny flames away, Chanyeol made a shooing motion. “Go wake him up.”

“I was just about to leave.”

“Trust me.” There was something sad in Chanyeol’s voice. “At least say goodbye.”

Was this what happened with Kris? Did Chanyeol not say goodbye before they parted? Jongin felt cold all over. He blamed it on the wintry night.

“I don’t – Soo is peaceful, when he sleeps.” Jongin’s magic curled, tempted to pull him away so he didn’t have to explain himself. “I don’t want to disturb that. Did you get to the hospice?”

“I did.” The subject was dropped peacefully. It was a personal affair after all. “Zhang Yixing’s name is registered as a worker, but he only works week days.”

“So he’s not there?”

“No.” Chanyeol sighed and even though the air was not so cold yet, his breath misted and caught the light of streetlamps.

“Baekhyun was just doing his job.” Jongin blurted. The cloud of condensation was disappearing and with it, the light. “He didn’t mean all that… trying to kill you.”

“I know.” Said Chanyeol. He snapped his fingers and a single flame returned, balancing on his thumb. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Kris.” The flame dulled a deeper red.

“I haven’t even found him.”

“You’ve given me hope that he’s alive – that’s enough for now.”

The silence between them was uncertain. They didn’t know each other, their only link being Kyungsoo, being mages of SM. What else could they talk about? Their past jobs? Their kill count? How did you manage to survive the memories, the fear of their futures after death in the Spirit Realm?

“When are you leaving?” Chanyeol’s question caught Jongin off-guard. “You know that you’ll have to.”

“I have another five days.” Until the time limit to his current job ended. Jongin would never lay a hand on Kyungsoo. “I’ll give myself one or two more.”

“You want to say goodbye to someone else?”

Jongin nodded, Baekhyun’s bright eyes glowing in his memory. Was Baekhyun waiting back in their own apartment or was he already out, hunting around for Chanyeol? “Hey, if I _do_ find Kris, how am I supposed to get him to believe me?”

Chanyeol wiggled his thumb and the flame fell off, melting into nothing before it could touch the pavement. “He’ll ask you: _Where?_ ”

“What’s the answer?”

“ _My place, it’s too dangerous at yours._ ”

Jongin noted the pinkening tips of Chanyeol’s ears and decided not to think too much about the context of their secret code. “I’ll remember it.”

Chanyeol held out his hand and Jongin took it, more prepared for the almost scalding touch of their handshake.

“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And – and I love him?”

Jongin nodded, releasing Chanyeol and tugging on his magic in preparation to teleport. He hesitated.

 

Kyungsoo stirred when Jongin slid back onto the couch, returning the kiss pressed to his lips eagerly. Jongin smiled against it and knocked their foreheads together.

“I have to go now.”

The weight of Kyungsoo’s magic surrounded him for a moment, unwilling, before it dropped away in defeat. “Come back to me soon.”

“I will.” Jongin pulled them to their feet. “I’ll tie stuff up with Baekhyun then I’ll leave, okay?”

Kyungsoo reached down to play with Jongin’s fingers, tracing them out one by one. “Okay.”

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

“No it is _not_ okay fucking hell –” Luhan pressed a hand to his still-burning ribs, eyes watering with tears. “Oh _spirits_ why would you do that?”

“Sorry – I didn’t mean to.” Sehun’s hands fluttered frantically. The kid had forgotten about Luhan’s injuries and, after some snappy commentary from both ends, jabbed an elbow into Luhan’s side. Luhan squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. He lifted the hand he was using to support himself on the car door to give Sehun the finger. Tao batted the gesture away.

“Lu Han.”

“I’m in pain.”

“It’ll be warmer when we’re in the motel.” Tao nudged them both gently away from the car, letting Luhan lean on him. Tao didn’t comment on the string of curses that followed every step Luhan took but he _did_ stay between Luhan and Sehun. The wind pulled at their clothes until they were safely in the motel’s reception area. 

Shanghai was a busy city, not just for the normal human populace but for mages as well. The nights were as awake as the days, full of signs and bustling people. The magically charged atmosphere of the motel wasn’t a surprise.

There were two men in front of them but Luhan didn’t pay much attention until he picked up on what the receptionist was saying.

“I’m sorry, there is only a single room available now.”

Shit. It was too dangerous to go out again. Amber’s magic had tailed them for most of their journey and it was only getting stronger.

“There’s only two of us – we can room together.” A chill followed one of the men’s words. Ice magic. The man turned his head and recognition slapped Luhan over the face. From the way Tao tensed, Luhan knew Tao saw him too.

“Minseok?”

The ice mage spun the rest of the way, eyes sharp and wary. They settled blankly on Luhan for a moment before they thawed in surprise. “Lu Han?”

This was impossible. The first thought that filtered through Luhan’s mind was horror. Had SM sent Minseok and Joonmyun after them too? He’d never be able to fight the brothers, it was a cruel move even for someone like the master. Then Joonmyun was tugging down his scarf, tilting to reveal the mess under his ear and the scarred remains of his contract. Utter relief flooded Luhan’s body as they jumped closer to greet each other, grinning so hard he felt his lips crack.

“You’re alive.” That was a feat. The brothers had joined SM about a year before Luhan and Tao had left with Kris. They must have done so many jobs by now. Not all of them required violence, Luhan knew that, but the stress of working for the master would be enough to drive anyone crazy.

“That’s what we should be saying.” Minseok enveloped him in a hug, squeezing.

“Ow _ow_ wait my ribs.”

“Sorry.” Minseok pulled back in concern, similar to the look Tao always gave but about a hundred times more motherly. The brothers would have left SM with them if they didn’t care so much about the trainees.

Joonmyun swamped Tao, head barely brushing past Tao’s shoulders, and of course the first thing he asked was: “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I’m _fine_ Joon.”

“Who’s your friend? He looks skinnier than you.”

“Joon please –” Tao laughed, dragging Sehun out from behind him. “This is Sehun.”

“So _have_ you eaten dinner?”

Luhan rolled his eyes. “I haven’t neglected them you know? Of course we’ve eaten.”

“How long are you guys staying?”

“Just the night, we’re taking a ferry tomorrow morning.” Luhan hesitated, casting a look at the receptionist.

She only shook her head, “my apologies, only one single room left.”

“They can room with us – unless you want to look for another motel?” Minseok pinched Luhan’s ear playfully, snatching his hand back before Luhan could bite his fingers off.

“We’ll stay.” Luhan smiled at the happy pulse of Tao’s magic.

 

The motel room was filled to the max with five of them, but it was packed in a comfortable way. They settled in neatly, Sehun and Tao perched on the bed, Luhan and Minseok taking the chairs and Joonmyun fiddling with the kettle. There were tea packets provided in the drawers and Luhan huffed a laugh when he realized the water had been brought to boil without Joonmyun turning on the switch.

“Sehun, this is Joonmyun and that’s Minseok.” Luhan tilted his head to each person as he mentioned them, “they used to be in SM – actually, when did you break the contract?”

“Twelve hours ago.”

Luhan almost dropped the cup of tea offered to him. “ _What?_ ”

Minseok accepted his own cup from his brother and nodded. “It was recent. We had outside help, of course, and we arrived in Shanghai at around six? We’re taking a ferry too.”

“What about you three?” Joonmyun found a spot between Sehun and Tao on the bed. “Where are you going?”

“We’re heading back to Seoul, for a friend.” Luhan shrugged at their worried looks. “Yeah, yeah, risky I know, but we need to get Sehun back home too. What’s happening with SM lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has the master been killing more people than he used to? Any massacres?” Luhan had to ask, ignoring the way Sehun hugged his knees to his chest. He was doubtful that the brothers would know about Sehun’s case if it was an issue of importance to the master, so he wasn’t surprised when they replied that no, nothing very unusual had happened.

“Except…” Minseok and Joonmyun exchanged a glance. “The mages who helped us out were Do Kyungsoo and Park Chanyeol.”

“No idea who they are.”

“Really?” Minseok frowned. “I though you guys knew Wu Kris?”

“What does he have to do with everything?”

“Chanyeol’s his boyfriend.”

Luhan _had_ heard of Kris’s fire mage lover. “Wait. If he’s in Seoul then where’s Kris?”

“Kris is… in SM.” Minseok answered carefully. “He’s been caught, but Chanyeol is, of course, trying to get him out.”

Luhan paused, sipped at his cup of tea and waited for its warmth to spread. Nothing soothed the horror.

“Is Kris still alive?” Tao was clutching his cup so hard, Luhan feared it would break.

“Yes.”

“How are they going to get him out?”

Joonmyun squeezed Tao’s arm reassuringly. “They’re looking for another blood mage in Seoul. You know how difficult it is to escape the master’s magic, and the master probably won’t be taking any chances with Kris. They need the blood mage to track Kris down first, then they’ll see if they can cancel out the master’s magic.”

A funny tingle crept over Luhan’s skin. What a small world. He knew only one other blood mage in Korea and China combined. “This blood mage, his name wouldn’t, by any chance, be Zhang Yixing?”

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

Baekhyun was home. A crash announced his presence as Jongin teleported into their apartment. The lights stayed steady but the plate Baek had been carrying was shattered across the floor.

“Fucking – _Jongin_.”

“Sorry.”

Baekhyun ditched a shard at him and he yelped. “You’re so cleaning this up.”

“Of course.” Jongin winked, about to laugh, until he remembered that Baek was still supposed to be pissed. Baekhyun had every right to act out, but as Jongin cleaned up Baekhyun didn’t say a word, perching himself on the kitchen counter and pulling his feet up to avoid the jagged pieces on the floor. That’s how they got past their arguments. They just… didn’t deal with any of them.

“Have you had dinner?” Baekhyun kicked him lightly in the side as he walked past with a pan full of shards.

“Nope.”

“Is pizza good?”

Jongin flipped him a thumbs up as he emptied the pan into the trash. When they had ongoing jobs, all forms of eating or sleeping schedules were thrown out the window. Their clock reported it was nearing midnight. At least pizza was a 24/7 sort of thing. As Baekhyun went to order, Jongin pulled on a jacket and zipped it up to his throat, a belated attempt to cover up any lasting marks Kyungsoo had left behind.

 

They flopped onto the couch, resting their feet in each other’s laps. It was a different sort of comfort from Kyungsoo’s but it was comfort nonetheless.

“Is that your phone?” Baekhyun raised an eyebrow at the buzz coming from Jongin’s pocket. He plucked it free before Jongin could protest and scanned the screen. “It’s Jongdae.”

Jongin snatched the phone back and took the call. “Hello?”

“Are you free to come to SM?” No ‘hello’ or ‘how are you. Jongdae was as blunt as always.

Jongin glanced up at Baekhyun briefly, heart stinging when he realized Baekhyun wasn’t even looking at him. “How long will I have to be there?”

“An hour? It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Just come over, would you?”

“Fine.” Jongin dropped the phone and dug his toes into Baekhyun’s hip. “Dae’s calling me over to SM. He said it can take up to an hour.”

“Don’t cry when you come back and all the pizza’s gone.”

“Noooooooo.” He whined and wriggled until Baekhyun kicked him off the couch. “Ow.”

“The faster you leave, the faster you’ll come back.” Baekhyun grinned. “Off with you.”

Jongin gave a mock salute and drew on his magic, squinting as his home warped to shadows and shapes. A few blinks and he was standing in SM. Jongdae sat at the front desk as usual, but instead of his usual languid laziness he was ramrod straight and stiff. Bandages peeked out from under his sleeves and a peeling scab streaked down his left cheek.

“What happened to you?” Jongin reached the desk.

“A fight.”

“With who?”

“Park Chanyeol. Guy was helping the brothers run yesterday and I got sent out after them. Not that you’d know anything about it.” He winked and Jongin grimaced. “Got something for you, by the way.”

“Another job?” The master never piled more than one job at a time.

“Nah. You just need to help someone get somewhere.” Jongdae beckoned and Jongin leaned forward to hear his whisper. “Look. This thing’s off the books. Do _not_ tell anyone I let you see him, got it?”

“What –”

Jongdae cut him off, pushing him away lightly and smiling over his shoulder instead. When he spoke it was no longer directed towards Jongin. “Good evening. You’re right on time.”

Jongin turned around to meet a face he’d only ever seen in reports and Kyungsoo’s pictures. Wu Kris was as every bit as intimidating in real life as portrayed, all dark eyes and dark hair and dark looks. At the moment his brow was smooth, but it looked like a frown normally knitted itself into his expression. A frown would fit a face like his. 

Despite the handsomeness, Kris also looked like shit. His eyebags rivalled Kyungsoo’s and bruises splotched his jaw. The way he held himself had the same stiffness Jongdae did – in pain and trying not to show it. Jongin gulped. It couldn’t possibly be this easy to find him.

“Kris, meet Jongin. He’s a teleporter, he will accompany you to your room.” Jongdae cleared his throat and his magic crackled over Jongin’s skin in warning. “Jongin. This is Wu Kris. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Jongin leaned back over the desk, whispering fast and low. “Dae, what the hell.”

Jongdae shrugged, “I thought you needed to find him.”

“Are you – did the master ask you to do this?”

“Nope. Look, he’ll never know. If anyone’s gotta look out for themselves, it’s you.”

Jongin stared at him helplessly. “But –”

“Are you going to take this chance or not?” Lightning sparked, little bright flickers in Jongdae’s hair. Strands of it prickled upright. Jongin swallowed.

“Thank you.”

Jongdae’s lip quirked in a small smile and he raised his voice so Kris could him. “Eighth floor, room twelve. Kris, you’re not to leave the room unless summoned or otherwise – master’s orders.”

Kris nodded once, a slight tilt to his head to acknowledge Jongdae’s words, and waited patiently for Jongin to approach him. The air lay deadly still. Definitely a wind mage, one of the rarer, calmer types that set Jongin’s nerves on edge.

 

Jongdae seemed to lose interest as soon as they walked off but his magic nipped at Jongin’s heels, worried. The prickly bits of energy only faded when the elevator doors closed them off from the foyer. Kris stood as stiff, cold and silent as steel, not even twitching whilst Jongin buzzed with anticipation. There was one camera in here, not one with audio, so Jongin could…

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Kris’s gaze flicked sideways, eyes narrowing in consideration. “Where?” His voice sounded as abused as his face, rough and scratchy.

“My place, it’s too dangerous at yours _._ ” Spirits, Jongin hoped he remembered that right. From the way the air contracted and made his ears pop, he guessed he did. But even as his magic gave him away, Kris’s expression smoothed back into impassiveness, lips pressed into a thin line. Jongin opened his mouth, intending to prod a little more, before the elevator doors opened and he snapped his mouth shut.

 

The eight floor was meant for trainees, the atmosphere charged with raw, untrained power. Jongin used to live here. Each dorm room was big enough for two but he, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun had stubbornly squished themselves together regardless of the rules. There’d always be one extra mattress on the floor and they’d play rock-paper-scissors to see who’d get to sleep there every night. Kyungsoo would almost always be the one down there, no matter who won or lost, claiming ‘it’s closer to the ground.’ It became clear that Kris too knew where he was going, barely pausing to look around before heading straight for room twelve. 

Now Jongin lagged behind, teleporting every few steps to catch up. Most of the trainees were asleep by this time, all of them tucked safely into their dorms, their peace unbroken. 

Room twelve waited patiently for them at the end of the hallway. No key in the lock. Jongin reached to grab Kris’s hand, his shoulder – whatever he could reach, really – in an attempt to slow Kris down. He needed to talk, but he couldn’t do it when Kris was practically running away from him. His fingers brushed Kris’s sleeve. Then longer fingers, a bigger hand, clamped over his mouth and Kris dragged him into the room.

 

Jongin’s back hit the wall the same time the door slammed shut and left them in pitch darkness. His magic rose in panic, urging him to move, to get the hell out of there, but he swallowed it down and froze in place. Wind brushed by his face and the lights flicked on.

“You listen here.” Kris’s tone wasn’t exhausted anymore, it blew flat and hostile into Jongin’s ear, calm before a storm. “Do _not_ tell Chanyeol where I am. Do not tell Kyungsoo where I am. Keep them away from me. Do you understand?”

Jongin could barely nod against Kris’s grip on his jaw but the tiny dip of his head seemed to be enough. He nodded without considering Kris's bizarre request, but Kris didn't know that. Kris relaxed his hold and stepped back. Jongin stayed where he was, carefully keeping his magic inside so it didn’t lash out against Kris’s. “Why?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“What does the master want from you?”

“I don’t know yet.” Kris scowled. “Stop asking.”

“I can teleport you out now. Even if you’ve got another contract, if I get you out you can break it and run.”

“The master’s tracking me by blood. I _can’t_ leave.”

“Chanyeol and Soo are –”

“Tell them to stop. I’m not leaving even if I’m free.”

Jongin’s thoughts crashed into each other, trying to salvage something from this unthinkable situation. “What? Why?”

Kris stared at him, unreadable. He waved his hand and air tugged the door open. “Leave.”

“Wait –” A gust swept Jongin off his feet and sent him tumbling out of room twelve, smacking the back of his head against the door frame on his way out. The door shut quietly behind him.

 

Jongdae waited exactly as Jongin had left him, sitting stiffly behind the front desk. He raised an eyebrow at Jongin’s approach, noting how the teleporter winced whenever he touched his head.

“You okay?”

“No.” Jongin braced his elbows on the desk and groaned. “I have a headache.”

“Need some ice?”

“I’m fine.” He jerked a thumb upwards. “Where was Kris before he came in tonight?”

“Doing a job for the master. I don’t know what sort though.”

“Do you know what’s keeping him here? I don’t think it’s a contract.” Jongin couldn’t think up anything worse than the exploding-death-sentence magic the master had worked into their blood.

“No idea.”

“Jongdae.” Jongin hissed, exasperated. “I’m leaving with more questions than answers.”

“At least you know where he is?” _Do not tell Chanyeol where I am._ Jongin bit his lip. Kris had really looked… scared. How one person could be scary and scared at the same time?

“Hey, do you know who caught him?” Jongin asked the question with half a mind, not thinking it was of any importance, until Jongdae’s silence brought his attention back. “Jongdae?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Kris? He didn’t tell me anythi –”

“Not Kris. _Baekhyun_.”

“What does Baek have to do with this?”

“Jongin.” Jongdae stared him dead in the eye. “Baekhyun was the one who caught Kris.”

 

The apartment was dark when Jongin returned and Jongin was glad for once. With Baekhyun around, Jongin would never be able to _not_ ask him. That particular scenario was fated to end in another fight. A note waited for him on the dining table.

_Leftovers in the oven. Got a job to do._

A job to kill Chanyeol, of all people. Jongin sighed, flicked on the lights, and pulled the still-warm pizza from the oven. He didn’t call Kyungsoo.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

“No, we haven’t heard anything about Sehun’s case.” Minseok eyed the kid thoughtfully. He and Luhan had distanced themselves from the rest, watching Joonmyun fuss over Tao and Sehun. They had arrived early to the harbour and Luhan had driven their car onto the ferry, double-checking he had the keys in his pocket before leaving it behind. They’d need it in Seoul. As efficient as the public transport system was, there were too many dangers being out in the open.

McDonalds, thank the spirits, was an excellent go-to for a quick breakfast. Even though pizza too was available all day every day, having it so early was kind of weird. Luhan fretted over the short walk to the fast food joint and back, but Amber’s magic had diminished to nonexistence and nothing jumped out at them.

“What about Amber? You know her?” Luhan sipped at his coffee and tried not to dwell on their sleepless night. Only Tao had managed to drift off for a few hours in the motel, resting on Joonmyun’s shoulder.

“Heard of her, never met her. SM has gotten pretty big after you left.” Minseok sighed but his breath didn’t mist in the air like Luhan’s did, too cold for condensation. “She’s had a lot of kill jobs.”

“That’s great.” Nothing was more exciting than having a seasoned murderer on your ass.

Joonmyun, Sehun and Tao had gotten quite far ahead, already milling with the crowd waiting to board the ferry. Half past four in the morning.

 

Luhan always kept his magic on Tao, on the lookout for signs of distress. And Tao, being a time mage, always noticed and reacted to threats first. So when Tao’s power burst to life, Luhan was already running, cup of coffee dropped and forgotten along with the pain of his ribs. Another second and Minseok was running too. They couldn’t _see_ what was wrong, but they could _feel_ it. 

Red pooled on icy concrete, vibrant under the white lights of the harbour. The crowd fell deadly silent, a ripple of shock. Luhan still couldn't see what the problem was, but he knew that incomprehension was usually the first reaction towards an act of violence. Someone screamed and the crowd scattered into chaos. Luhan and Minseok plunged into the fray, searching desperately.

Tao had Sehun shoved behind him, Joonmyun standing protectively in front of them, the only three still figures on the harbour. The crowd thinned as more people found escape and Luhan could finally see who they were facing. Amber.

But that couldn’t be possible. Luhan hadn’t felt her magic.

One dead body was at her feet and another, still alive, she held at knife-point. The blade glinted red, pressing dangerously under her hostage’s jaw. Was she mad? Out here, with so many witnesses, she was willing to carry out her job?

“Amber.” Luhan shouted but she didn’t break her gaze, staring straight through Joonmyun and Tao to focus on Sehun. The five of them had relatively discreet magic, even the current cold could cover up for Minseok’s ice. As long as they didn’t do anything too flashy…

“Give me Sehun and I’ll let this one go.” She snapped back, pressing the knife just hard enough to draw blood. Her hostage whimpered. This section of the harbour was now deserted. Security had to have called the police by now.

“And what are you going to do after you’ve got him?” Luhan slipped forward slowly until he stood on Joonmyun’s left. A chill indicated Minseok had taken his brother’s right. Amber tensed and that was when it clicked. She’d been suppressing her magic, going without it for who knew how long. That’s why they couldn’t sense her. “Kill him?”

“If you choose to keep him alive, how much longer will he have?” Amber’s voice shook. “The master didn’t want any of them left – he won’t give up.”

Luhan clasped his hands behind his back, magic at the ready. “Ok, ok. Let’s talk this out, ok?”

 

He snapped his fingers, the movement hidden from her sight. An eerie sense of connectedness crept over him as he felt Joonmyun’s magic surge alongside his. Luhan’s wave of energy smacked into her the same time Joonmyun’s literal wave of water did. They were so close to the ocean, only a few steps from the edge of the harbor, that Joonmyun was practically thrumming with energy. Without her own magic to protect her, she was at mercy to their forces, losing grip on her hostage and sent flying. 

Minseok’s chill overtook them, ice forming patterns in the water as it froze and trapped Amber where she stood. A moment of peace as the violence ebbed. Then ice shattered as her powers blasted to life.

 Luhan had forgotten how fast she could move but Tao hadn’t. Droplets of water slowed their trajectory through the air, in time with their heartbeats and breaths. What would have taken Amber half a second now took forever. The whole area warped with Tao’s time trap. 

Tao may not have forgotten her speed but he had forgotten her desperation. No fully sane mage would run around killing people out in the open. She must have been running low on magic, dangerously close to the line of overuse, but she clawed through his trap anyways, ripping it open so that time flowed freely once more. Amber rammed into Tao shoulder-first, flinging him sideways and leaving Sehun exposed.

 She reached for him.

 

There was a reason why young mages went to Guilds to train. All of them had the potential to snap, lose control, lash out. Luhan shouldn’t have been surprised at Sehun’s magical snap but he was. Wind exploded around them like a tornado. It sliced sea spray over their skin, loud and terrified. Fresh red joined the droplets in the air and instead of Sehun, Amber dropped limply to the ground.

Sehun scrambled backwards, eyes wide, wind dying in his shock. Luhan didn’t think air could be so sharp. Half of Amber’s neck was missing, so was her left hand, and gashes curved over her body, through the clothes and deep into skin. Blood mixed with water.

 

Sehun _screamed_.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

Chanyeol didn’t sleep a wink through the night and from the way Kyungsoo stumbled into the living room, yawning, he didn’t think Kyungsoo had either.

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo peered at his phone screen, taking in the email page. Chanyeol let him see.

“We had a Guild supporting us in Beijing, I need to explain what happened.” Hopefully he and Kris would still have their jobs when they got back. “You?”

“What about me?”

“Your job.”

“I work at a café – everyone there’s a mage.” Kyungsoo turned his face away to yawn again. “Already told them I wouldn’t be turning up for the next two weeks or so.”

“I checked on the hospice yesterday, when I went on my walk.” Chanyeol pocketed the phone, following Kyungsoo as he shuffled to the kitchen. “There’s a registered worker by the name of Zhang Yixing. He only works on nights Monday to Friday.”

“So he should be turning up today.” Arms crossed, Kyungsoo studied his fridge full of banana bread and muffins. Must have been from the café. “Are you good with eating this stuff for breakfast?”

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

Luhan leant against the public toilet stall, guarding anyone from getting close enough to hear Sehun’s retching from inside. There went his breakfast. Poor kid needed to get some food in him but Luhan wasn’t sure if that was the best idea right now. Luhan knocked on the stall door.

“You ok?”

The toilet flushed, Sehun’s voice barely audible. “Yeah.”

“Think you can eat anything?”

“No.”

Sehun shuffled out, pale as a ghost and shivering. Luhan waited for him to wash his hands and splash his face before handing back the jacket. Most of the blood had missed Sehun, save for a few drops, and the jacket covered the speckled red left behind.

“It doesn’t bother you at all? All that blood.” Sehun’s question needled at Luhan’s heart. Once upon a time, gore shocked him too.

“I’ve seen worse.” Luhan had _done_ worse.

“You’ve killed someone before?”

“So what if I have?” He still had a list of names carefully noted down in his phone, backed up on diaries and note books. “Tao has. Min and Joon have.”

“You don’t… regret it?”

“What we did was under the contract. We were different people, bound to SM.” Luhan took a deep breath, his ribs throbbing as his chest expanded. Still not quite healed yet. “It’s a performance of sorts. We put on a new face and we get the job done. Sometimes the job backfires and kills us instead.”

The air calmed, eerily stagnant in a way that Luhan had only ever associated with Kris.

“I just – I _killed_ her.” Sehun gasped and the stall doors slammed open at a sudden gust. “It wasn’t a job. She’s gone and she just –”

Luhan had dealt with this kind of shock before. Tao used to take comfort by huddling close, resting his head on Luhan’s shoulder and matching his magic to the slow beat of Luhan’s heart. But Sehun was a different mage, a different person, and Luhan was hesitant to touch him.

So he reached out with his magic instead, curling firmly around Sehun’s wind and soothing it to a light breeze. A shuddering breath and the roiling power receded.

“Look. I’m not going to say it’ll be alright because it won’t. It’s never going to be alright ever again. You’re going to see her when you walk around and when you close your eyes to sleep she’ll be there too.” The nightmares were always the worst. “But that wasn’t your fault. It also wasn’t her fault. It was SM’s and it will always be SM’s and the Guild Master will be the one to pay in the spirit realm. Not you.”

If Sehun took comfort from that, he didn’t show it, brushing past Luhan in silence.

 

On Sundays shopping malls opened late, so the five of them milled around one of the entrances, waiting. They needed food energy and Luhan needed another coffee for thinking power. The ferries were out of the question. Those services won’t be up for at least another day given what happened on the harbour.

“How safe is Incheon airport?” Luhan asked the brothers. He frowned at the look they gave each other. “What?”

“Chanyeol had arrived there. He almost didn’t make it out.” Minseok folded his arms on the table. “Are you thinking of flying back instead?”

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep Yixing waiting for too long.” They’d already been delayed once but Luhan refrained from mentioning it, casting Sehun a worried look. Kid didn’t even seem to be listening. “He was going to meet us when we got off the ferry, we’ll have to call him again, tell him to get to the airport instead.”

“You’ll have to fight your way out.”

“That won’t be a problem.” The ferries were going to be shut down for the next three days as the police get their shit sorted. Luhan nudged Tao under the table and they exchanged a tight smile. “We’ve fought before.”

 

The earliest flight was set to leave at midnight. They’d reach Seoul by two the next morning. When Luhan asked the brothers if they were going to take a flight too, Joonmyun shook his head. “We’ll rent a car out, make a trip around the local Guilds. There should be a few who’d know a safe place to settle down, get a job.”

Tao whispered a suggestion in Luhan’s ear and Luhan repeated the offer to them. “You could take our car if you want. It’s not like we’re going to fly it to Seoul with us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. The heater’s broken though.” And Luhan really didn’t know if they were coming back after this. “Do whatever you want with it. Probably a good idea to ditch it when you get a new one.”

New arrangements in motion, the brothers tagged along with them to the airport. Tao refused to let Luhan do any lifting, taking most of their belongings out of the car with Sehun’s help. Spread evenly between the three of them, none of their bags tipped over the twenty kilogram limit. Luhan tossed Minseok the keys and they parted.

 

Luhan never understood why people thought goodbyes were the hardest. It had always been so easy to leave things behind. To forget.

 

But there was one thing a mage couldn’t risk to forget. Luhan sorted through their stuff until he found a notepad. When he handed it to Sehun he expected a confused stare. What he got was impatient fingers, snapping together as Sehun asked for a pen.

_Amber Liu_

Two words printed neatly in hangul then repeated in English. Had Sehun asked Joonmyun for the spelling? Luhan motioned for Sehun to keep the pen and the rest of the notepad. That was when Luhan swore on his own soul, from the Earth to Spirit Realms, that Sehun would never have to write down another name. Not when Luhan was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments! Kudos <3 See you next chapter *wink*  
> Come scream at me on twitter [@Willow4448](https://twitter.com/Willow4448?lang=en)


	4. Relay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote this instead of studying.

All airports smelled the same, of old and new, a strange place where time did not flow naturally. Even though seconds ticked away on clocks and notices came over speakers, airports never ceased to make Luhan uncomfortable.

“You’ll be delayed again?” asked Yixing, crystal clear through the phone. Free wifi was a blessing for international calls.

“Actually, we’re getting there earlier than expected. Plane lands at 2am, Incheon airport.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And if a fire mage and an earth mage approach you, please don’t try to kill them.” There’s another headache building at the base of his skull. “Park Chanyeol and Do Kyungsoo. I’ll explain it when we have more time.”

“What do they look like?”

“Um. One’s really tall with big ears and the other is shorter with big eyes?”

“You are as eloquent as always.” Yixing’s tone was dry and humorous, no sign of the humming, distracted mage from yesterday. Luhan took that as a good sign.

“And you’re as sarcastic as always.” Sarcasm was better than insanity. “Feeling better?”

“Infinitely. The master’s magic has receded for now – it is no longer distracting.”

“Do you know why?”

“If I did, I would not have called for you.” Luhan could imagine Yixing’s soft frown. “The master becomes more powerful with every surge, I cannot handle him on my own.”

“Could his power be caused by a lot of deaths? Because, Yixing –” Luhan glanced at Tao and Sehun sprawled out beside him on waiting chairs, asleep. “We found this kid from nowhere, getting hunted down by SM. The group of trainees he was with were killed and he doesn’t know why.”

Yixing sighed and Luhan wondered if headaches could be transmitted through phone calls. “Have you heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Of course I have?” As far as magic pushed the boundaries of reality, the stone was never more than a fantasy. “In stories.”

“Theoretically it could be created.”

Luhan froze, mind trying to compute the vast amounts of magic that would require. “That’s impossible – Yixing, it’s a stone that gives you immortality without anything in return. It doesn’t just break equivalence laws; it’s literally taking an axe to every single rule we have, hacking them to bits then setting them on fire.”

“The chances are slim, not impossible.” Yixing paused. “Especially considering his blood magic.” 

“Why the hell are you only telling me this now?”

“I came to this conclusion only a few hours ago.”

Luhan frowned, “please don’t tell me you called us a week ago on nothing but a hunch.”

Yixing’s laughter bubbled through, a familiar sound Luhan hadn’t heard for a long time. Yixing didn’t hang up. Even when they weren’t face to face, Luhan could feel his need to ask something more, so Luhan waited for his friend to speak again. 

Yixing was a lot of things but ‘vocal’ wasn’t one of them.

“How is Zitao?” There it was. Laughter gave way to strained speech. Luhan tried to keep it as short and painless as possible. 

“Tao is perfectly fine.” This topic was a goddamn minefield and most of the time, Luhan was the only one navigating it. “It won’t hurt to talk to him?”

“He was absolutely terrified of me the last time I saw him.”

“You weren’t helping.” Luhan pinched the bridge of his nose as his headache swelled. By the end of this he could probably pinch his nose off his face. “Just talk to him, Yixing. Please?”

“I’ll see you at Incheon.” Yixing ended the call with nothing more.

 

Luhan’s magic spiked, a slip of annoyance, and the phone screen spiderwebbed with cracks.

“Shit.” He must have hissed it too loudly because big hands squeezed his shoulder. Luhan relaxed under Tao’s worried frown. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

A stream of cold air blew straight into Luhan’s ear and he jumped, shuddering. Sehun stifled a laugh, “Says the old man who was also supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’m not tired – where are you going?”

“Toilet.” Tao eased off his seat and stretched. “I won’t be long.”

 

Luhan watched until Tao was lost in the crowd. How much had Tao heard? Luhan wouldn’t put it past him to lock himself in a stall and cry for a while, but even if _did_ do that, there wasn’t much Luhan could help with. As much as Tao liked physical comfort, there were some things he liked to deal with alone. Maybe Tao had picked up the habit from Luhan.

“Hey, Luhan?” Air coiled by Luhan’s ear again and he hurriedly covered it before Sehun could send another shiver-inducing blow. “Who is Yixing?”

“I already told you that.”

“I meant, who is he to Tao?” asked Sehun. “Did they… like each other?”

“Maybe.”

Sehun nodded, too understanding for Luhan’s liking. “How old is Yixing?”

“Yixing’s age,” he poked Sehun between the eyes, “is none of your business. They’ve got some problems and those are very _personal_ problems.”

“Holy shit, did they almost kill each other or something?”

“What the – no! Well…” Luhan winced at the memory. “Not really.”

“So what’s the problem? Does it have something to do with their magic? Did Tao give Yixing a time problem and Yixing give Tao a blood problem?”

Luhan scowled, ready to shoot Sehun down, but caught himself at the last second. The poor kid fucking _killed_ someone earlier that day and Luhan could see through the mask he was putting up. It took skill to shove your thoughts in a box and lock it away and it was a skill that took time to perfect. Sehun talked to fight the silence, a strategy that Luhan knew well, so he played along with it. This was the most tactful Luhan had been in a while – not including his interactions with Tao.

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask Tao, but I don’t think he wants to talk about it.” He nudged the conversation somewhere else. “You also asked about Kris before?”

Kris was a topic both he and Tao found ease with. Sehun had already shown interest at their mentions of another wind mage and now was no exception. He perked up in interest. “Is he older than you?”

“Younger, actually. By half a year.”

“Is he strong?”

“He’s… controlled? Imagine the eye of a storm, deadly stillness.” Luhan ruffled Sehun’s hair. “Neat as a pin. Precise. I didn’t think he was a wind mage at first.”

“You’re an asshole.” Sehun whined as he fought Luhan off and the air returned his hair to semi-tidiness. “But what happens when he gets pissed?”

“I dunno he just – he gets quieter.” Luhan blinked and a scene flashed into mind, corpses found dead in their beds, suffocated to death. Kris had been a silent killer, one of the master’s favourites. “But when he’s happy he turns into a goof.”

“He’s in trouble now, right?”

“He is.” The same protectiveness he usually experienced with Tao crept over him. There had to be some reason Sehun was asking this. “Why?”

Sehun went still and his magic copied his emotions, nervous. “I’ve been thinking about something stuff. You guys said I won’t be able to live near SM anymore, right?”

“Only if they’re still after you.” Luhan spoke carefully. 

“They will be.” Sehun twisted his fingers together. “Afterwards I want to help you guys.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Your chances of dying will double with every one of us you meet.” _One of us_. Escaped mages. Hunted mages. “And you’ve already met Joonmyun and Minseok.”

Sehun opened his mouth and Luhan braced himself for an argument. Then Tao returned with a too-bright smile and they backed off to make room for him. “What were you two talking about?”

“About Kris.” Luhan eased over the bump in their previous conversation and Sehun followed suit. But from the way Sehun’s mouth was set, Luhan knew they’d be talking about it again soon. “Did we ever meet Chanyeol before?”

“Only once. When they moved to Beijing.” That was nothing more than a short meet up at the airport, Kris and Chanyeol barely awake enough to speak. Luhan remembered it perfectly, but he’d asked for the sake of Sehun. “He was…” Tao floundered for the correct Korean word, “sunny?”

“What sort of magic?” asked Sehun, blatantly curious.

“Fire.”

 

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Five years ago, Chanyeol would be handing over his number. But gone were the lonely days of uncontrollable fire and wary stares, so he smiled politely and took his coffee order from the Starbucks barista. Her magic followed him as he walked away, miffed at the rejection. 

He weaved past tables and chairs to the back corner where he’d left Kyungsoo in pursuit of coffee. People filled the café chain to the brim, most of them workers from nearby offices coming to spend their lunch break.

“Here’s yours.” Chanyeol put down their drinks carefully and sat next to Kyungsoo. He didn’t bother waiting and took a sip from his, unaffected by its heat. His satisfied exhale steamed in the warm air, dissipating as he leaned over to see what Kyungsoo was doing. “Did the brothers send us something?”

“No but…” Kyungsoo turned the phone so Chanyeol could see better. “Does this look like the face of a thirty-four year old?”

It was the same photo from yesterday, Zhang Yixing staring straight through the camera to study them. Then Chanyeol registered Kyungsoo’s question and frowned, picking up the phone and tilting it as if that would make the man in the picture look older. “Thirty-four?”

“Yeah, I only just checked but he doesn’t look like he aged a day over twenty-five.”

They fell silent, contemplating. They could trust the brothers and the brothers could trust their own source of information, but what if their information at its core, was wrong? “The brothers said he healed easily, right? Maybe he’s just really healthy.” 

Kyungsoo laughed, picked up his cup, and froze mid-motion. Earth magic weighed down Chanyeol’s shoulders and he tensed. “Soo?”

“Do you feel that?”

“Not when you’re acting up.” Kyungsoo’s magic relaxed and Chanyeol opened up, searching with his own magic. Wispy fragments of energy brushed against him, flowing with the light itself. Light. “Yes I do, how close is he?”

“Close enough – probably inside the mall. It’s strange though, if he wanted a fight he’d have blown out all the lights, gone invisible and stabbed you.”

“That’s… not very reassuring.”

“Sorry.”

Chanyeol took another sip of his coffee. “Maybe he’s coming to talk?”

 

They kept their senses peeled, but it wasn’t them who spotted Baekhyun first. It was the barista. Unintentionally hyperaware, Chanyeol had been picking up on her magic as well and her startled zap of energy turned his head.

 

Ordering at the counter was Byun Baekhyun, smile glittering as bright as his earrings as they caught the light. He didn’t hide his contract at all, bending over the counter, chatting with the barista and drawing out a shy giggle. Kyungsoo stiffened and gripped the table.

“Stay cool, Soo.”

“Working on it.”

Baekhyun drifted away from the counter, waiting for his order by the looks of it, and nothing could prepare Chanyeol for the intensity of his stare. Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled – a dark kind of sparkle that threatened violence.

 

Neither of them broke eye contact until Baekhyun collected his order and weaved the same path Chanyeol did towards their table. Baekhyun took the seat across Chanyeol with a confidence that begged to be challenged. 

“Good afternoon, Soo.” Baekhyun set his elbows on the table. “Hello Chanyeol.”

Whatever history Kyungsoo had with Baekhyun was redundant. This was Chanyeol’s fight and Chanyeol would be the one to lead it. That didn’t stop the fire mage from finding support in Kyungsoo’s solid presence. “Baekhyun. We never got a chance to properly introduce ourselves.”

“Is there really a need for that now?” Baekhyun asked, putting more weight on his elbows as he slid forwards. “Let’s skip the introductions and get to the good stuff, hm?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you, baby.” Oh that was _so_ incredibly wrong, the way Baekhyun used the endearment. It sparked an uncomfortable prickle across the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “Come back with me?”

Chanyeol clenched his hands into his knees, heating up his magic enough for a seasoned mage like Baekhyun to get the message. _Don’t mess with me_. “The answer has been and always will be a no.”

Baekhyun sighed, long and drawn out. “You’re no fun, totally not what I expected, Kris talked a _lot_ about you.” His smile sharpened into a grin. “You love being called baby don’t you?”

The uncomfortable prickling sensation morphed to dread, weighing heavily in Chanyeol’s chest. Either Baekhyun landed a lucky guess or SM had ripped that particular piece of information out of Kris. Considering SM’s master, the latter was far more likely.

Chanyeol chose silence as his retort. There was nothing to be gained from speaking – it wasn’t like Baekhyun could tell him anything of importance – and if Baekhyun wanted to try and get under his skin, he’d have to grit his teeth and deal with it.

“He’s alive, but of course he misses his baby very much.” Baekhyun leant even closer, their noses almost brushing. “Come back with me and I promise you’ll see him again. Alive too, isn’t that a plus?”

Silence continued, Chanyeol wiped all thoughts of captivity, torture and pain, away.

“You know, the master didn’t say you _had_ to be dead, but if you stay out here, he’ll kill Kris. He’ll slice Kris open and bleed him to death. Maybe he’ll use all that blood for some magic spell.” Baekhyun pouted at Chanyeol’s impassive face, the corners of his mouth turning down cutely. It clashed with his words and rubbed Chanyeol the wrong way. Did Baekhyun enjoy this? “Wow, no reaction? You’re so cold for a fire mage.”  


Baekhyun closed the distance and kissed Chanyeol, a mere brush of contact. Chanyeol didn’t have to try and stay still this time. He was shocked into a statue-state, uncomprehending as Baekhyun smirked and leaned forward again. Soft lips pressed desperately against Chanyeol’s, wetness licking between them, searching for entry. Chanyeol’s body caught up with his brain and he flinched so violently, his chair screeched as it scraped the floor.

 

Heat lashed and Baekhyun recoiled, clutching his cheek and laughing like Chanyeol’s expression was the funniest thing in the world. Fire simmered in Chanyeol’s chest, held back only by the grip Kyungsoo had on his knee.

“That didn’t help convince me.” He hoped he didn’t sound as shaken as he felt.

“Aw, are you sure?” Magic rippled across Baekhyun’s features and Chanyeol tensed, expecting an attack, but none came. “Do you really love Kris, Chanyeol? Or did you just spread your legs for him because he was a ticket out of SM? Maybe instead of baby he should have called you a _slut_.” The word slapped Chanyeol in the face. Baekhyun’s grin warped into a snarl. “If you really love him you’ll follow.”

 

Chanyeol swallowed his fire, quenching it, and whispered so Baekhyun wouldn’t hear his weakness. “No.”

“Hm?”

“It’s still a no, Baekhyun.” Said Chanyeol, breathing in and imagining Kris was there with him, a calm and cooling grace. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re done here.”

“Suit yourself.” Baekhyun shrugged and pushed his drink over. It wasn’t the drink that caught Chanyeol’s attention but the sentence written on it.

_You don’t care, do you?_ It was last thing Kris said to him before he stormed off with his barely-packed bag and headed for Seoul.

“I’ll see you two again.” Baekhyun tucked his chair in and went back the way he came, taking his magic with him. Chanyeol stayed stiff, transfixed, until Kyungsoo turned the cup so that the message was out of view. No one else in the café seemed to noticed their little episode.

Able to move again, Chanyeol carded his fingers through messy hair. “That went great.”

“I’m going to beat the shit out of him the next time I see him.” Kyungsoo let go of the cup before he could accidentally crush it, as close to angry as Chanyeol had ever seen him. “What is wrong with him?”

“You tell me.” The thoughts Baekhyun seeded were dangerous, Chanyeol knew as much, but they festered despite his efforts.

“Yeol, I can literally see you thinking about what he said. I don’t know which part exactly, but stop.” Kyungsoo gestured at the drink Baekhyun had left behind. “You drinking that?”

“Do you think he poisoned it?”

“Can’t say for sure.”

Chanyeol wrinkled his nose, sure that the words written on it were poisonous enough. “I’ll throw it out later.”

 

They were finishing their coffees when Kyungsoo’s phone rang, the caller ID reading ‘Joonmyun.’ Kyungsoo put it on speaker and they bent closer so they could hear over the general noise of the café.

“Kyungsoo?”

“Hey Joon, nice to hear you’re still alive. What’s up?”

“It’s about Yixing.” Joonmyun said, sounding like he was gearing up for a huge explanation. “He’s not going to be at the hospice today. He’ll be at Incheon airport.”  
Chanyeol exchanged a glance with Kyungsoo and shoved all thoughts of Kris, Baekhyun and SM out of his head. “We’re listening.”

“Do you happen to remember a mage called Lu Han?”

 

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Nearing sunset, his bags were packed and his room uncharacteristically tidy. Jongin couldn’t leave without speaking Baekhyun. He imagined Baekhyun returning to an empty room and no explanation. Choosing Kyungsoo again. With nothing to do but wait, Jongin sank to the floor and sat in silence. 

Until his phone rang and scared the crap out of him. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” Jongdae said. “I need you to come in, right now. It’s important.”

Teleporting to his feet, Jongin was already looking for a pair of shoes to put on. Whenever Jongdae dropped his usual, playful tone of voice, were times of great worry. “What’s the problem?”  
“The master summoned you.”

Jongin froze. “That is more than _important_.”

“Jongin.” He said, static crackling for a second before dying down. “You said you’d give yourself three days to leave and your three days are up. So if you’re doing what I think you’re doing – don’t stop. You need to get the hell out of here, but you know how impatient the master is when he summons.”

“How impatient?”

“If you don’t show up within an hour, you’re probably gonna die.” Jongdae’s voice dropped to a soft whisper. “You can’t leave until you’ve seen him. Listen to me very carefully. He. Does. Not. Know about Kyungsoo. He might have his suspicions but he doesn’t have any proof. So do not, under any circumstances, let him manipulate you into a confession. Do you understand me?”

“Jongdae –”

“Do you understand me?”

“I do.” Jongin’s simple words wavered. “I just… Jongdae?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

 

Jongin got his shoes on and magic swirled around him. He could talk to Baekhyun afterwards. The first thing he saw upon arriving at SM was Jongdae at the front desk, who nodded once in greeting. Jongin tried for a confident smile. He failed.

 

No one could access the top floor, where the master lived, via magic and Jongin was no exception. He waited for the elevator to arrive, jamming his finger into the call button a few more times than necessary. The ride up took an excruciatingly long time and Jongin’s heart throbbed in his throat the whole way. He was close enough to sense the master’s magic, heavy and suffocating, like the air in a coffin. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. 

He didn’t expect the doors to open on the top floor and reveal Kris. 

Paler than a ghost, the wind mage dipped his head and shifted slightly so Jongin could pass. There was none of the aggressiveness from their previous meeting, only tiredness. As Jongin walked by, Kris laid a hand on his shoulder, not holding him back, merely resting.

“Yesterday.” His whisper fluttered against Jongin’s ears. “I apologize for my reaction.”

There was none of the aggression or fear from their previous meeting. Jongin nodded. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I won’t – I _can’t_ – but I regretted not asking you this.” Kris’s lips were cracked and bloody. “How is Chanyeol?”

“He’s alive and well, with minor injuries.” Stab wounds were comparatively minor. “He says he’s sorry. And he loves you.” Jongin swallowed, his mouth dry. “Do you want me to tell him anything?”

A shadow of a smile graced Kris’s features. “What can I say other than; I love you too?” Kris released him and something passed between them, a mutual understanding of the suffering that came from love that laid out of reach. “Be careful, Jongin.”

Kris stepped into the elevator and Jongin nodded as the doors closed between them, cutting him off from escape. Without Kris’s presence, blood magic filled his senses one more. He steadied his breath, patted sweaty palms on his jeans, and continued towards the master.

 

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Baekhyun stomped home, turning the lights on with a snap of his fingers.

 

He peeked into Jongin’s room, checking to see if his friend was sleeping in there, and stopped. No one. In Jongin’s place was a locked suitcase, standing to attention at the foot of Jongin’s bed. It was an old, battered thing, following them since a time before SM.

Baekhyun had always known Jongin wanted to leave, and he hated himself for wishing against it. 

There’s no Jongin around now. When he closed Jongin’s bedroom door, Baekhyun could believe he was already alone. He drew all the curtains shut, turned off the lights with a click of his fingers, threw himself onto his own bed and surrounded himself with the darkness of pillows and blankets.

 

Leave with Jongin? What a joke. Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut and Chanyeol’s horrified face swam into view. The fire mage would be the newest in a very long list of names. Jongin didn’t know how long that list really was. 

For Baekhyun, darkness was as powerful as death and with it came the nightmares. Sometimes he believed he sensed phantom hands reaching for him from the Spirit Realm, desperate to avenge themselves. Nothing existed outside of SM but loneliness. With the loneliness came the dark.

 

Baekhyun held up a finger and a tiny spark of brightness glowed from its tip, glinting off his earrings and soaking him in comfort. He liked bright things. Slowly, he peeled layers of colour from the white light. Violet and purple went first, then blue and green. He left himself with glittering yellow and orange and red, smiling softly at the warmth it implied. It wasn’t fire but it was close enough, filling the emptiness of the apartment around him. Jongin would come back.

 

That was how Baekhyun finally drifted off to sleep, light fading away until the darkness returned. At least now he wasn’t awake to be scared of it.

 

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Blood on the floor, a terrifying amount, painting the wooden floorboards. It was a dream and Luhan knew it, but he could never wake up no matter how much he tried. His view was familiar, a past home, but that wasn’t what he focused on.

“Hurry up.” Luhan muttered to himself. As if on cue, the wailing began.

He blinked and Tao appeared, short and young and thirteen years old again, limp on the floor. Red plastered his clothes to his body. Another blink and Yixing faded into existence. There was a source for the wails now. Yixing screamed so loudly, Luhan’s ears hurt. But he didn’t have the hands to block out the sound. A dream. That was all.

 

Luhan settled in with his non-existent dream body, dread coursing through him, and tried not to look too closely. The horrible sounds Yixing made were easy to ignore – Luhan learned how to the first few times – but the view was something else. It changed frequently. There were so many ways Tao could get hurt, so many ways Yixing could have killed Tao that fateful night, and Luhan had thought of them all. He’d end up looking like he always did and –

“Luhan?” Soft, but strangely loud in the cacophony of his dream. A hand patted his cheek, the sensation dragging Luhan from sleep. “Lu – wake up.”

Luhan did, becoming aware of soreness in his neck and back. Tao’s face was inches from his, knitted into a scared frown. Luhan yawned and knocked their foreheads together, eliciting a yelp.

“Lu _han_.”

“Zi _tao_.” Luhan imitated his whine, laughing at Tao’s disgruntled pout. He shifted, intending to get up and stretch, until he registered the weight in his lap.

 

Sehun, tall as he was, took up two seats when he curled up and his fluffy, dark-haired head rested mostly on Luhan’s right thigh. He briefly considered easing out from underneath, but as he tensed to move, Sehun sighed and the air responded with dreamy swirls. Luhan gave up and let the kid sleep.

“Why didn’t you wake him up instead?” asked Luhan, feigning offence. “Do I not have perks of seniority?”

“You didn’t look very happy.” Tao was still talking in Korean, his vocabulary limited, an adorable scrunch to his nose. “What were you dreaming about?”

“I forgot.” If there was anyone who could tell when he was lying, it was Tao, but Tao didn’t push for an answer. Luhan wriggled the toes in his right leg and winced at pins and needles. “How long has he been on my leg?”

“A few hours? It’s almost 8 o’clock.” Tao was more reliable than any clock in the world. “We should eat.”

Then Luhan had slept way longer than he thought he would. There’s a plan on the tip of his tongue, some subject of matter concerning food, but he found himself distracted, brushing Sehun’s hair back. The way it poked at his face made Luhan feel itchy himself.

Tao’s quiet laugh brought him back. “Lu…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me!” Luhan cut into a whisper halfway through his sentence, Sehun stirring and stabbing his thigh with a sharp cheekbone. “Taoooooo.”

“I forgot.”

Dammit. He’d totally left himself open for that one. “Fine, then. Don’t tell me.” Luhan sniffed and turned his head away, the turn on his lips haughty. Tao’s laughter continued and Luhan grumbled when Tao leaned on his shoulder. Now well and truly trapped in his seat, Luhan groaned. Quietly though. He didn’t want to wake Sehun.

“Hey, Lu?” Tao shifted and his chin dug into Luhan’s neck. “When you talked with Yixing. Is he still angry at me?”

Luhan thought for a long moment, knowing how important it was to answer this _right_. His fingers brushed neat lines into Sehun’s hair. “Xing is… troubled. He’s always got a lot on his mind, we already know that.” 

“You’re dodging the answer.”

“No, Tao, he wasn’t angry.” Yixing never was. Uncertain yes, and scared, but never angry. The next question would push the push the line with Tao but Luhan asked it anyways. “Are you still scared of him?”

Tao leaned heavier onto Luhan’s shoulder. His silence answered well enough.

 

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“He’s not answering.” Distracted, Kyungsoo wobbled as the train stopped. Incheon airport. Chanyeol fiddled with his lighter, remembering all too well what had happened here a few days ago.

“Text him?”

“Already done that. He doesn’t usually go this long without checking.” They stopped inside the airport, pressing to the side so they didn’t block anyone’s way. Kyungsoo tried calling Jongin again.

Chanyeol was close enough to hear the faint beep that indicated the end of the call. Kyungsoo’s uneasiness was infectious, like a mutated fungus that ate away their hope. “I’m sure he’s fine, Soo. Leave him a voice message?”

There’s a moment of silence as Kyungsoo dialed Jongin again. “Jongin, we’re not at home at the moment but we’ll be back by four tomorrow morning at the latest. Stay safe.” He coughed and Chanyeol pretended to not listen. “I love you.”

 

Chanyeol shivered as Kyungsoo tucked his phone away. It wasn’t magic that triggered the reaction but…

“Someone’s watching us.” The chance that SM already had their mages out for them was higher than Kyungsoo’s apartment block.

“Fantastic.” Kyungsoo said dryly. “Were you expecting them not to be?”

“No.”  

 

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Together, Joonmyun and Minseok were unstoppable. One’s strengths covered the other’s weaknesses and vice versa, a perfect team.

 

Separation never ended well.

 

They needed it to save time. Minseok stayed behind to pump the car with gas and its tires with air. Joonmyun crossed the street and entered a mini mart, shivering at its warmth. He preferred the chill, had gotten used to it with his brother, and heat took away the comfort it brought.

Joonmyun bought enough food to fill the basket, then two twelve-packs of water bottles. Driving to Beijing should only take a day, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. Money they had, the one thing they didn’t have to worry about right now, and it would be easy enough to access help from local Guilds. All they needed to do was avoid SM, _which_ , Joonmyun thought, _was a lot easier said than done_.

 

The woman stood in front of the exit, arms crossed loosely, no hint of magic in her aura. Then she curled her hair over her ear and revealed the hexagonal mark of SM’s contract. Joonmyun set his groceries on the floor, plastic bags crinkling, and flexed his fingers. He could see Luhan’s car – now their car – through the windows, oblivious to the new player on the field.

“Where is Amber?”

Joonmyun dipped his head and the bottles shivered, water swirling. “Dead.” He pursed his lips. “My condolences.”

She scoffed, sounding painfully close to a sob, and tilted her head back, blinking rapidly. “What of her target?”

“Her target is gone.” He spoke softer now. She seemed young, younger than Tao even, and with youth came pain. “Your job here is done.”

“And what if I said my next target was you?”

The bell to the store tinkled and Minseok stepped inside, water freezing over. He levelled a cold glare at her, a coldness Joonmyun could never bring himself to achieve. Minseok was, after all, older. “Then we’d have to ask for your name.”

Magic surged for a moment, her face darkening. Shelves of the store rattled. Then it was gone, dissipating along with the tension. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a USB, tossing it to Joonmyun without a word.

Joonmyun caught it. “What is this?”

“Something I have no more use for.” She shoved past Minseok, practically running as soon as she was out the door. They didn’t stop her, keeping watch until she disappeared from sight under the streetlights of this cold night.

 

There was no ‘are you okay?’ or ‘did she hurt you?’ after her departure. Minseok picked up the bag with the water bottles and Joonmyun the other, the two of them returning to the car. Thinking with the same mind, they pulled Minseok’s laptop from their belongings and plugged in the USB.

 

The first thing they notice was the USB’s labelled name. Jung_Krystal. Was it hers? A double click revealed sets of files, documents written in a form they knew to be unique to the SM Guild. Going through it invoked a sense of emptiness. Two days ago they’d been writing exactly the same sort of reports, mostly their findings on Zhang Yixing, but these ones were…

“Oh _spirits_.” Minseok murmured as they clicked open the most recent document and got a screenful of Sehun’s face. He scrolled down, “fourth attempt? Succeeded in amassing the required amount of magic despite a missing subject – what in the Realms is this supposed to be?”

“Whatever it is, Sehun thought they were supposed to be a training group.” Joonmyun scrolled further, all the way to the bottom of the document where he knew the location and time should be recorded. “Zaozhang. That’s not far from here.”

“No – Joon we’re not doing this.” Minseok took the laptop and firmly shut the screen. “We left because we wanted to get _away_ from this madness, not to jump into it again.”  
“This is more than madness.” Joonmyun cupped Minseok’s cold face, just like he always did when they were children. “We met Luhan and Tao for a reason.”

“What if she was lying? What if this is a trap?” Minseok unplugged the USB, looking like he wanted to hurl it away. “What if this reason gets us killed?”  
“You know we can’t just _leave_ this.”

The temperature dropped, ice crystals creeping over Minseok’s cheeks and latching to Joonmyun’s hand. Minseok closed his eyes and gently pulled his brother away. “I know.”

 

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Boring as it was, Jongdae took the front desk job gladly. Less risk of getting blown up equaled a happy mage. It also handed him a load of gossip and information that upped his chances of survival. Lack of input bothered Jongdae to no end.

It had been hours since Jongin took the elevator up. Too long. It was nearing midnight already for spirit’s sake.

Jongdae slid off his seat and stretched, skin pulling around the remaining scabs of his burns. Electricity buzzed at the slight pains, yearning for a rematch with Chanyeol’s fire, and Jongdae ran fingers through his hair to comb out the static. When it puffed up he knew he looked like a clown.

 

Casually, like this wasn’t the most stupid thing he’d done in a long time, Jongdae jammed his thumb into the elevator call button. He could make an excuse, say he had something to report. He prayed on the spirits that he wouldn’t arrive on the top floor and find bits of Jongin exploded everywhere. That was a scene he’d witnessed before and it wasn’t one he wanted to witness again.

He was running a full course of dread when the elevator opened and out came –

“Jongin! Holy shit, what happened up there?” A brief spark of electricity jumped from Jongdae’s finger to Jongin’s shirt as his stress discharged into the air around him. “Hey…” Jongdae stepped back to give Jongin enough room to exit the elevator. “You ok? You’re really pale.”

Jongin blinked at him, face blank. It took a heartbeat too long for a response. “I’m ok.”

“What did the master want from you?”

“Nothing important.” Jongin waved his hand vaguely. “Just a talk.”

“That was a really long talk.”

Jongin shrugged and, without sparing Jongdae another glance, left. This was the first time in months Jongdae saw him used the exit instead of teleporting out.

 

Lightning cracked inside him, a storm of worry, but he gripped it tightly and forced himself to return to the desk without so much as a frown. He failed to unlock his phone on the first try. When he managed it, he scrolled through his contacts so fast they blurred. He tapped Baekhyun’s.

No one picked up.

“For fuck’s sake, come on Baek.” Jongdae’s shift ended in twenty minutes. In their world, that was a lot of time, and Jongdae wasn’t sure if it was his electricity or something else that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He rang Baekhyun again.

 

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Featherlight touches against his lips pulled Baekhyun from the deep waters of exhausted sleep and left him to paddle in shallow consciousness. He thought it was part of his dream, Chanyeol’s mouth burning his, charring his tongue and searing his throat. He’d kissed Chanyeol to illicit a reaction and he’d succeeded. So why did he taste such bitterness?

 

What would it feel like to have someone love him like that? Someone who would die for him? Baekhyun rolled over uneasily and long arms looped around him, dragging him into warmth. His eyes snapped open.

“Did I wake you?” Jongin murmured in his ear, arms tightening.

 

Every single light in the apartment flicked on as Baekhyun wrenched himself free and scrambled off the bed. His heart pounded against his ribs.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun backed up a step as Jongin stood. There was something strange in the way Jongin moved that rang a tiny alarm bell in Baekhyun’s head. He retreated until his back hit a wall.

He was too shocked to react when Jongin closed the distance between them and cupped his face for a kiss. And from the cold hardness of the wall behind him, Baekhyun knew it was _real_.

Jongin burned worse than Chanyeol did, with grief and frustration instead of heat. Baekhyun’s cry was muffled between them. He struggled weakly, torn between wanting and rejecting, until Jongin pulled away. In the following silence, Baekhyun whispered.

“I thought you were leaving for Kyungsoo.”

Jongin reached forward slowly, giving Baekhyun a chance to stop him, and stroked Baekhyun’s cheek. The alarm bells rang a little louder at Jongin’s uncharacteristic display of confidence.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jongin said, and Baekhyun clutched his shirt. “I went to tell Kyungsoo just now.”

Baekhyun went very still, the last wisps of sleepiness clearing out of his head. Jongin always had a sweet lilt on Kyungsoo’s name, but this time there was none.

“What did you tell him?” Baekhyun pressed closer, hands landing on Jongin’s waist and head resting on his shoulder. He searched with his magic, trying to find Jongin’s signature, buzzing energy.

“I told him that I loved you more.” That was Jongin’s voice, not an illusion or a shapeshifter. Baekhyun’s search brushed against the sickeningly sweet ooze of blood magic.

 

It took every ounce of Baekhyun’s control to not flinch. “You love me?”

“I do.”

Baekhyun lifted his head to look at Jongin’s face, only to see the master lurking behind those familiar eyes. “No you don’t.”

 

The lights died and darkness leapt forth, consuming them. Baekhyun stepped forward and rammed an elbow into the master’s gut. Even blind, Baekhyun sprinted away without smacking into anything. This was his home, his and _Jongin’s_ home. Something thudded behind him.

He didn’t have his knives. Well, technically they were _daggers_ but Jongin called them knives so much it rubbed off on him. Jongin also didn’t like them in the house, so Baekhyun always left them at SM.

He’d never really minded though. Now he did.

 

Kitchen knives weren’t double edged but they were good enough. He didn’t bother trying to keep quiet, fumbling around until his hand closed over the knife handle then slamming the drawer shut. The master would sense him, he was basically a walking container of blood. There was no use in hiding.

Magic popped and the lights flared back to life, just in time for Baekhyun to dodge under the master’s grasp. He stabbed, driving the master back. Baekhyun’s next slash should have cleaved the master shoulder to waist, but before it met its mark his contract exploded with pain.

It seared through his veins, weakening his muscles until the knife clattered to the floor. He screamed, dimly aware of his knees giving out. Pain of a lesser sort prickled into his scalp as the master yanked him by the hair. Baekhyun hit the floor snarling and writhing as weight straddled his waist.

A fist slammed into Baekhyun’s jaw, dazing him. He clawed at the master’s skin. Then the master held Baekhyun’s hand down, reached for the dropped knife and stabbed it through Baekhyun’s palm, pinning it to the floorboards.

 

Instinctively, Baekhyun’s hand tried to clench. The movement only multiplied his pain, whiting out his brain as he choked on another scream. Familiar fingers grabbed his chin, forcing him away from the sight of metal buried in his flesh, and he found himself staring into the master’s eyes. His contract dwindled to a deep ache.

“Good evening, Baekhyun.” The master said, using Jongin’s voice and frowning with Jongin’s face. 

“What did you do to Jongin?” Baekhyun hated how shaky he sounded, the pain creeping into his throat. That was _Jongin_ on top of him, there was no other explanation for it.

“He’s gone for now. My body was turning frail, and Jongin offered himself so willingly.” The master clapped a hand over Baekhyun’s mouth before he could speak. “From the way you looked at him, I thought you were the one. It would have been much easier if he loved you instead.”

Baekhyun growled and bit down viciously, breaking skin. The master slapped him so hard, his head whipped to the side.

“Thank you, for confirming it was Do Kyungsoo.” He continued conversationally. “Do you know of his location?”

Yes. He’d gleaned it off Jongin’s notes, hidden in the tight gap between desk and wall. Jongin never could keep all his thoughts together. “I don’t know.” From here he could blind the master, frying his eyes with light, but he held back. The master would have his blood painting the walls.

“Baekhyun.” The master dipped a finger into the trails of red that pooled on the floor. “We can agree there is no point in lying to me. Where is he?”

“I don’t –” It felt like shrapnel had burst under his ear. All reason shattered and he shrieked, spine curving as he arched off the floor. He thrashed uselessly, unable to hear anything past a high-pitched ringing, trying and failing to form words. His contract burned longer than before and, when it faded, Baekhyun gulped air.

The master ripped the knife free and Baekhyun cried out, the sound coming as a hoarse cough. He almost missed the master’s words. “We have all night, Baekhyun.”

Terror squeezed tears from Baekhyun’s eyes. He shifted weakly, trying to look at anything but Jongin’s eerily emotionless face. “I don’t know.”

The master hummed, making Baekhyun tense in anticipation of torture. In the icy silence came a faint buzzing. Baekhyun wasn’t sure if it was a real sound or something only he could hear, but the master stood up, Jongin’s weight leaving him, and went after the noise with a frown.

 

Escape was a pipedream, but Baekhyun moved purely for the sake of moving, as if it was a form of rebellion. He rolled onto all fours, making the mistake of putting weight onto his injured right hand. Gasping, he stared at it, transfixed by the gore of his own flesh. Dirty white showed through the red. He couldn’t move those fingers.

 

Distracted, Baekhyun didn’t notice returning footsteps until the master’s kick caught him across the face. Something crunched, warmth trickling over his lips, and he crumpled. He licked and tasted iron.

“Hello?” The master shoved Baekhyun onto his back, speaking into Baekhyun’s phone. “Yes, he’s right here… Me? I feel fine – maybe even better than usual.”

The thing was on speaker, but Baekhyun couldn’t think enough to connect the caller’s voice with a face. It reminded him of ozone and electricity.

“You want to talk to Baekhyun? Sure.” The master crouched by Baekhyun’s head and held out the phone. “Say hi, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun opened his mouth, to yell or groan or cry, anything to warn Jongdae away. But as soon as he drew enough breath, the master gripped his jaw and dug cruel fingers into his contract.

 

Physical contact was ten, twenty – a hundred times worse. The master released him, let him fall, and Baekhyun couldn’t hear himself scream; he couldn’t feel the floor, couldn’t feel his own skin break as he clawed at the contract. This was it. The master was going to kill him and Baekhyun _wanted_ him to, craving sweet relief.

The agony ebbed, enough for Baekhyun to sob – “ _please_ , I don’t know, _I don’t know_ –” then it returned.

It consumed him, blinded him, deafened him until all he knew was pain. When it finally left, he found himself curled into a tight ball, like he was trying to hold himself together lest the master wanted to rip him apart.

“Baekhyun.” The master crooned as if he was speaking to a lover. “You care for Jongin, do you not?”

He did. He did so much.

“I have no need for his body if you bring Park Chanyeol to me.” Knuckles stroked Baekhyun’s damp cheeks. “Either I have Jongin and Kyungsoo, or Kris and Chanyeol. Which one do you care more for, hm?”

Kris and Chanyeol were jobs. Like any other job.

“I’ll let you think about it.” The master stood up. “Your efficiency with capturing Kris was exemplary. If you bring me Chanyeol before I find Kyungsoo, then I’ll give Jongin back.” He dropped the phone within Baekhyun’s reach. The call to Jongdae was still on, muted. “I look forward to your report.”

Baekhyun’s contract throbbed and he whimpered, dreading another round, but nothing happened as the master left except for a cold gust of air.

 

Baekhyun inched his good hand for the phone, dragging it closer, too weak to pick it up. He tapped feebly, fingers slicked with blood, until he unmuted it. Words failed him for a moment and he coughed, the simple reflex morphing into a terrible hacking that shook his bones, fresh blood splattering the screen.

“Baekhyun? _Spirits_ , Baekhyun can you hear me?” Jongdae sounded frantic. His hair must be standing with static. A laugh bubbled up in Baekhyun’s throat at the image, lost in his coughing.

“Jongdae.” He managed to rasp. “Help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments <3  
> Kudas!  
> Won't update for the next three weeks because finals are here. Don't worry though, I'll never drop a fic! See you next chapter <3  
> I exist on twitter. Join me ;) [@Willow4448](https://twitter.com/Willow4448?lang=en)


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